Taking Off the Rose-Colored Glasses by cosmopolitan411

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 24/01/2008
Last Updated: 22/03/2008
Status: Completed

“No, what’s not fair is that it’s never mine. It’s always been Ron, and now—now Ginny. When are
you finally going to trust me, choose me? I need you Harry,” she told him weakly, wiping away all
the stray tears streaming down her face.




1. losing an illusion of happiness
----------------------------------



**Disclaimer:** *Harry would have either died or married Hermione if I had written that
book.*

**--**

**Taking Off the Rose-Colored Glasses**

**--**

**Summary:** *“Every man is afraid of something. That's how you know he's in love
with you; when he is afraid of losing you.”*

**--**

**Chapter I: losing an illusion of happiness**

--

*“Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth.”- Ludwig Borne*

--

“Don't do this to me Harry… not *now*,” she desperately whispered, feeling herself
wavering at his words as she the tears slowly wreaked through her body.

“Hermione,” he brought his hand to her arm, comfortingly rubbing it as he spoke, “I made a
mistake and I'm sorry for that, but come on… it's *us*-”

She wrenched her arm from him, shaking her head forcefully. “And that's exactly the problem
Harry, if you couldn't—damn it, Harry, you screwed up, that's it!” she cried desperately,
hating herself more and more as each new tear streamed down her face—hating herself for being so
weak, so petulant.

He flinched at her words, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for being so cruel and
spiteful, he didn't deserve it, it wasn't his fault that he did that—he really didn't
even realize it.

She let out a sigh, willing herself to calm down. “I love you Harry, and I'd do anything for
you, but I can't always just come in second like this—I just *can't*. It's not
even that I deserve better or anything, I just—I just *need* more.”

“Come on Hermione, you've got to know that it's always you, you're never in second
place with me, can't you see that?”

She smiled at him, wiping away at the tears that were making their way down her face, much to
her chagrin. “I wish that was true, everything would be so much easier if it was, but , Harry, just
be honest with yourself. I mean, whose side is it that you always choose?”

“Oi, that's not fair-”

“*No*, what's not fair is that it's never mine. It's always been Ron, and
now—now *Ginny*. When are you finally going to trust *me*, choose *me*? I need you
Harry,” she told him weakly, wiping away all the stray tears that were flowing down her face.

“Hermione, I do-”

She shook her head, stopping him before he could even finish his thought. “Don't be a liar
too, Harry. I can't go on like this; I can't always be in second place. I know it sounds
pathetic and horribly unreasonable, but I can't help that, I can't change that. Every time
that something tragic has happened in your life, every time that everyone else deserts you, I'm
always by your side, always there to help you get by. I don't regret a day of it, Harry, I
really don't, but I… I just can't help but wish that you'd do the same for me, and I
*hate* that feeling.”

“I—I-” he stumbled, desperately trying to find the words, but finding that none were coming to
his aid. “I promise I'll change!”

She smiled sadly at him, bringing her hand to his cheek and caressing it in that soothing manner
that she knew he loved. “*Never*, never do that Harry, never force yourself to change, I'd
only hate you for it anyway. It's either there or it's not, and I've come to terms with
that, I really have. I just need some space so I can finally be my own person.”

He turned his head away from her hand with those last words, no longer able to look at her as
she said good bye to him. “But what if I don't want you to leave?”

She sighed. “I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice in the matter anymore.”

“But it's not fair,” he whined, and she couldn't help but smile at how he sounded like
petulant five year old.

“Either way one of us loses Harry, but this time—this time I just can't let it be me again.
I've done what other people expected of me for so long now that I honestly can't even
remember what it feels like to follow my own heart. I've done it long enough Harry, and while I
wouldn't trade a day of it for the world, I just can't keep going on like this without
totally losing myself to you. And, as my best mate, you shouldn't be able to let me do that
either,” she said, whispering the last part as she felt herself waver under his intense gaze.

He sighed, begrudgingly pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace, nonverbally letting her
know that she had won.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

“Just don't forget to write, all right?”

“*Never*,” she promised.

**--**

**author's note:** hope you enjoyed it and please review (trhe good, the bad, and the
ugly—all is greatly appreciated!)

p.s. here
is a link to the banner!

-->



2. losing the security blanket
------------------------------



**Chapter II: losing the security blanket**

--

*"You've got to get to the stage in life where going for it is more important than
winning or losing."*

*- Arthur Ashe*

--

*“Bloody hell**,* *Ron, why can't you* *just* *get it* *through
your thick skull already?* *I mean**,* *you can't possibly be* **that**
*dense and obstinate?!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in aggravation.*

*“Maybe you're the one that's wrong, h**ave you ever thought about that?* *I
mean it* **is** *possible for you to be wrong, I know what a shock that must be for a
self-righteous hag like* **you***!” he glared at her, storming out of the common room in a
huff.*

*“Bloody prick,” Hermione muttered as she let herself fall onto the couch, rubbing her temples
in an attempt to sooth the oncoming migraine she always got from any form of communication with
Ron.*

*“Hermione… I mean—you can't really blame him,” Harry stumbled, trying to save his mate
from having to further face the wrath of Hermione's temper.*

*She raised* *her head, coldly glaring at him. “A**re you saying that he was right
when he said that dragons are easy to slay?! For Christ's sake, his brother works with them,
the berk should know by now that there's an ancient magic that imbues their thick
hides!”*

*“It started out as just a game, why did it have to blow up like this?”*

*“Because he's an idiot,” she dryly responded with a smirk.*

*“He didn't know that, so what? It doesn't mean that you have to be so mean to him
Hermione; we get it, you're smarter, no need to throw it in our face now.”*

--

“Hey mate, where were you off to?” Ron asked, clapping him on the back as he took a seat by him
at the bar of the pub.

“Just thinking about something Hermione said to me before she left.”

“Well, at least she said something to you, all I got was an `I'm leaving to work for Healers
without Borders and don't you dare try to stop me.' Love the bloody wench, but that
doesn't mean that she isn't a stubborn annoying little thing at times,” Ron chuckled.

Harry smiled at the thought of her. “She's a spitfire, it's why she was the first girl
we were ever *really* able to respect, you know that.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “You know, I have to admit, I didn't think I'd miss her this much. I
mean, I love the chit, always have, but I never figured I'd actually be longing to have someone
tell me to take my feet off the table, use a coaster, or read a book for once in my life so I
don't become stupider than I already am.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter. “I loved it when she said that last one, you always gave her
this dumbfounded look; no matter how many times she said it, it always surprised you to hear
it.”

Ron smiled at the memory. “She really kept us in line, didn't she?”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Yeah, we probably would have failed out of Hogwarts if it wasn't for
her.”

“I miss her mate… I *really* miss her.”

“Me too.”

“But we'll see her again, it's not like she dropped off the face of the earth,” Ron
smiled, the fact that he was forcing himself to stay optimistic over the situation was plainly
obvious, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“She's in impoverished countries in Africa, I'd say that that's pretty much the
equivalent,” Harry dryly responded.

Ron's shoulders sagged at the words. “It is, isn't it?”

“Afraid so… wish it weren't though.”

“Or that she at least went somewhere a bit more… first world.”

Harry smiled despite himself. “Or that.”

“She's going to be okay though.”

He nodded. “I know, I just can't help, but feel like I let her down.”

“Nonsense, you're Harry Potter, in her eyes you can do no wrong.”

“I wish that was true,” he mumbled.

Ron eyed him quizzically at hearing those words. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head in a futile attempt to rid himself of the memory. “It's nothing mate, just
a conversation we had before she left, nothing important.”

“Sure sounds important to me, but if you don't want to talk about it that's okay, after
twenty-one years I've finally learned to respect a person's privacy.”

Harry snorted. “Glad to hear it, it's about time.”

“Oi, now *you* sound like Hermione.”

-->



3. losing heart
---------------



**Chapter III:** **losing heart**

--

*"The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart."
-Robert Ingersoll*

--

*He walked into the r**oom* *only* *to see her crying on his
be**d**.* *“**N**ot that I don**'**t love to see a*
*pretty* *girl* *lying* *on my bed, but it**'**s kind of against the
rules for a girl to be in the boys**'* *dormitory, care to explain
Hermione?**”*

*She sniffled, desperately trying to wipe away the tears th**at were streaming down her
face.* *“**I—I was waiting for you.**”*

*He eyed her quizzically before slowly saying* *“**I see…**”*

*“**Ron and* *I—we—we* *got into a fight tonight, he accused me of cheating*
*after I met with Viktor at the Three B**roomsticks.**”*

*He nodded.* *“I* *know.**”*

*Her eyes widened in surprise.* *“**Y**ou**—you*
*know?**”*

*“**Ginny told me so I went to find Ron and he explained what happened between you
two,**”* *he elaborated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he awkwardly
watched her sit in front of him**,* *crying her eyes out. For a minute he thought he saw
a look of hurt pass through her eyes, but**,* *just as fast as it came**,* *it
left* *without a trace**.*

*“**I didn**'**t cheat on him.**”*

*“**I know you didn**'**t, you**'**d never do that, far too
loyal of a person to,**”* *he whispered as he slowly pulled her off the bed and into his
arms in a tight embrace.*

*“**Then why doesn**'**t he see that? He's my boyfriend for
Christ**'**s sake!**”*

*“**He's just being stubborn Hermione, but he loves you, he really
does.**”*

*“**I want to hex him,**”* *she sheepishly admitted.*

*He c**hucked, whispering**,* *into her ear**,* *“**but you
won**'**t.**”*

*“**That doesn**'**t change the fact that I want to though.**”*

--

“So you broke up with Ginny?” a deep voice interrupted him from his reverie.

Harry turned to see Ron taking a seat next to him on his couch, a fire whiskey for both in hand.
“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Harry shrugged noncommittally. “Just felt like the thing to do.”

“Don't lie to me Harry; we're best mates for a reason. There's something else,
something big.”

Harry tilted his fire whiskey, watching the drink swirl as he did it, thinking of how that had
always been Hermione's favorite thing about drinking it—how it looked, the color. He had always
loved those quirks of hers.

Still staring at the drink, Harry distractedly told Ron “You know she accused Hermione of trying
to steal me from her… even called her a jealous hag.”

Ron winced. “Is it sad that that actually sounds like something she'd say?”

Harry looked up at him with a pained expression. “You really think so?”

Ron couldn't hide the surprised look in response to that question. “Don't you? I mean
you *did* break up with her.”

“I honestly don't know anything anymore,” he admitted with a pathetic shrug.

Ron rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I've ignored it long enough mate, but
it's been two months since she left, a month since you went all moody on me at that pub,
Fred's birthday party no less, and that something, whatever it is, is still bothering you, I
*can* see it. Just tell me what it is that she said to you because it obviously had a pretty
big impact on you.”

Harry just kept his gaze on the lit fireplace before him, taking a sip of his whiskey as he
purposefully ignored Ron's question.

“I swear to you mate, if you don't tell me I'm leaving, I never liked people who moped
in their self misery, it's a waste of time.”

“This is coming from the bloke who gets angry at the drop of a hat.”

“Uh hello, that's spiteful, not misery? Anger's okay,” he reasoned in what Hermione
would have called “perfectly er-*Ron*-eous1 manner,” bloody hell, she really had
the worst sense of humor.

“Sounds like a double standard to me,” Harry muttered.

Ron groaned. “You know what Harry, forget it, I'm leaving.”

Harry let out an aggravated sigh, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “She told me that
I don't deserve her.”

Ron stopped in the middle of the room, tightly frozen in the spot from which he had just been
about to apparate from. “What?”

“She said that I didn't deserve her—didn't appreciate her.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Well that's bull.”

“That's what I thought,” Harry sheepishly admitted. “But—but the… the more I think about it,
the more it seems as if I'm the one that had it wrong all along. She's right; I was never
as good of a mate to her as she was to me.”

“Well of course not, that's impossible. Hermione's the best person to have for a mate,
*ever*! No one can compete with that, she is willing and ready to do anything for a friend,
the only thing you can do is be the best mate you can be for her, she appreciates that much. I mean
look at me, she stuck by me, regardless of what an arse I can be towards her some of the time.”

“You wouldn't understand…”

Ron stepped back, clearly affronted by the statement. “Oh I get it, just because I'm Ron
Weasley, the bloke that has the emotional range of a tea spoon, means that I'm not worthy of
such information.”

“Don't be a prick, it-”

“No, you listen here Harry; you're pushing everyone in your life away. I've let you do
it long enough, but I'm not going to lose another friend, you two mean too much to me for me to
just let you go like this!”

Harry paused at his rant, his expression softening more and more with each word. He groaned as
he threw his head into his hands. “I just miss her, mate, and—and I'm scared that when she
comes back she'll realize that she deserves better than me… that she doesn't need me
anymore…”

Ron growled, stomping his foot onto the floor petulantly. “Bloody hell, I mean you weren't
supposed to actually have a good excuse, you were supposed to let me be mad at you because
you're an arse! This really isn't fair you damn prat.”

“Sorry.”

A smile tugged at Ron's lips as he retook his seat by Harry's side. “Listen mate, she
needs us just as much as we do her. I'm the one that keeps her grounded by getting her to let
loose once in a while, even if it usually does lead to a lot of fights between us, and
you—you're the one that gives her hope. She believes in you and somehow—somehow that helped her
be able to have more confidence in herself. She knows that, that was never the problem.”

“I know; it's just that I just wish she didn't feel like she couldn't grow with us,
it seems so unfair.”

“She'll be back, though, and that's what's really important.”

“But what if she doesn't come back?”

“I—I-” Ron stumbled. “I don't know. Honestly, I've always tried to ignore that
possibility.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah… maybe that's best.”

--

**author's note***:*

*1**just in case you didn't quite get the er-Ron-eous jab, it's a
reference to the word erroneous, sorry if that didn't make much sense*

*p.s. feel free to R&R ;)*

-->



4. losing hope
--------------



**Chapter IV:** **losing hope**

--

*“**Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in
knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?" -T.S. Elliot*

--

*“**Good morning,**”* *an unusually* *cheerful* *Harry greeted
Hermione as he took a seat by her at the dining hall.*

*“**Where**'**s Ron?**”*

*“**Still sleeping, decided not to go to breakfast and just sleep in
today.**”*

*She merely nodded her head with a knowing smile, not at all surprised by the
announcement.*

*“**So how are you this fine morning**,* *love?**”*

*She shrugged unenthusiastically.* *“**I**'**m okay.**”*

*“**Well* *I should hope so given that you and Ron finally got together last night.
Anyway,* *I see Ginny over there* *so* *I**'**ll talk to you later
okay?**”*

*“Sure,” she told him with a weak, but nevertheless, encouraging smile.*

*Looking back at the memory he knew that she hadn**'**t been okay that day, but
what killed him was the idea that he would never learn what it was that brought on that short bout
of depression. He should have been there for her.*

--

**one year later.**

“Hey mate,” Ron somberly greeted him, clapping him on the back as he took a seat by him at the
bar.

“Ready for the newly implemented annual ritual to begin?” Harry asked him with a pained
smile.

Ron winced slightly. “Well I'm praying that it won't actually become an annual
ritual.”

“What'd you get her then?”

“A plane ticket to here,” he sheepishly admitted with a sheepish smile.

Harry let out a laugh. “Way to be inconspicuous.”

“I try, and, hey, at least I got her a muggle form of transportation, she's got to
appreciate that,” he reasoned with a grin, rather proud of himself for his feat. “So what'd you
get her?”

“Well, apparently, great minds think alike because I got her a locket that acts as a portkey
when you open it.”

“And where would it take her to?” Ron asked him with a knowing grin, quickly figuring out where
it was all leading to.

“Our apartment.”

“Did you tell her that in the birthday card or did you leave her to her own defenses so
she'd be forced to come her when she opened it?”

“I'm not an idiot, Ron, it wouldn't be worth it if I didnt, she'd kill me, you know
that temper of hers.”

Ron nodded, wincing at the various memories that came to mind when Harry made that comment.
“Worse than the infamous red headed temper.”

“Too true,” Harry said, raising his glass in agreement.

“Hey, mate?” Ron said, with a tone that immediately changed the entire feel of the conversation.
The air between them stilled as the solemn undertone in the conversation was rehashed with those
two words.

“Yeah Ron?”

“Do you—do you think she'll ever come back… to stay?”

Harry involuntarily flinched at the mention of that, ever since she had left the question of
whether or not she would ever return had been a taboo topic of sorts, both deciding that it was
better to avoid the pain of that prospect through avoidance.

“I hope so, but for now… she sounds happy, and I don't want to be the selfish git that takes
that away from her.” *I**'**ve done enough as it is*.

Ron nodded. “I just wish she'd come back… even just for a day. I never realized what an
important role she played in my life; those weekly letters just aren't enough.”

“They can't ever compete with the real thing, can they?”

“Who ever thought that the stuck up girl that we initially despised would be the one that we
were hopelessly pining for later in life?” Ron chuckled at the irony of the situation.

“She's special like that.”

“Well then, here's to her, hopefully she's out there having a blast celebrating her
twenty-third birthday.”

“Here's to her,” Harry nodded, raising his glass to Ron's.

-->



5. losing oneself in the memories
---------------------------------



**Chapter V:** **losing oneself in the memories**

--

*“The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.” -G.K. Chesterton*

--

*He looked at her only to be surprised* *by being met with the unusual sight of her
staring off into space before* *nudging her* *slight**ly* *so to bring her back
to reality**.* *“**Where* *were you off to just now?”*

*“Nothing.”*

*He raised an eyebrow at her.* *“**Sure* *doesn't look like*
*nothing;* *you're not one to get lost in your thoughts unless it's something of*
*`**utmost importance.**'**”*

*She giggled.* *“Are you mocking me?”*

*He* *at least* *had* *the decency to pretend to* *look affronted by the
question.* *“**Me**? Never!—S**eriously though, what's going on with you,
you've really been out of it lately?”*

*“I have?”*

*“I've only seen you read one book this week, so yeah, I'd say you've definitely
been out of it,” he winked at her.*

*She blushed at the truth behind the statement; she couldn't deny that one book compared
to her usual minimum of three books per week was a rather obvious sign. “I've just been
thinking about my parents.”*

*His joking demeanor immediately vanished as his body stiffened, leaving her with a
s**omber and frowning Harry Potter.* *“I'm sorry that you have to-”*

*“Shush you! Don't you dare put the blame on yourself, I'm just a tad homesick,
that's all Harry, but don't you ever—***ever** *shift the blame onto yourself, I
won't let you do that. Sorry, but you just don't deserve the credit for that one, I'd
be on this side whether I knew you or not.”*

*He smiled slowly as his stance softened at her words.* *“Thanks Hermione, you always
know just what to say, don't you?”*

*“It's a gift… on**e* *that, sadly, you were never blessed with.”*

--

**one month later:**

“She's not just going to drop it, it's been a year and she's still pining after
you,” Ron told him as he handed him a drink before taking a seat by him on the couch as they
watched couples dance. He didn't even have to say who “she” was; it was far too obvious to even
bother with something as trivial as names anyway.

Harry grimaced. “You know, during the war she was a great distraction, this beautiful and fun
girl that could take my mind off of all the troubles and the pain, but now-”

“You've realized that that's about all that there is to her?”

Harry's eyes widened at the statement, he was rendered totally speechless.

“Oh don't give me that look, she may be my sister, but that doesn't mean I'm about
to turn a blind eye to the fact that she's more so in love with the idea of you than the real
you. Honestly, I'd be setting myself up for disaster if I did that.”

Harry smirked. “That sounds like an awfully Hermione thing to say right there.”

Ron blushed, his skin tone progressively matching his hair color. “She may have instilled that
one with me while we were dating back in seventh year.”

He chortled at the admission. “*Classic*.”

“You should set her straight though.”

“I tried to, that's what actually led to her grinding on Terry the Boot there to make me
jealous.”

Ron patted him on the back sympathetically. “Well… she never was well known for her tact.”

“You'd think we'd be a match made in heaven then, wouldn't you?”

Ron laughed. “True, you never were particularly talented in that department either, were
you?”

“Afraid not, Hermione always loved to tease me about it too,” he sheepishly admitted with a grin
as he quickly chugged what was left of his fire whiskey.

“She always comes up with the meanest comments, doesn't she?”

Harry nodded vigorously. “And then she pulls that whole little doe-eyed nice act out of no where
to get out of trouble.”

Ron grinned. “-And it always works, never once have we retaliated. Doesn't really do much
for the men's movement that a woman beats us at the battle of the wits every time, does
it?”

Harry cocked his head to the side slightly, eying Ron with a confused and amused look.
“That's probably why there was never a men's movement mate.”

“Oh you know what I mean,” Ron waved him off noncommittally.

-->



6. losing a love
----------------



**Chapter VI: losing a love**

--

*“'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” - Alfred Lord
Tennyson*

--

*He watched as Ron took her into his arms, pulling her further onto the dance floor. It was
his eighteenth birthday party and he just sat in the corner watching his two best mates dancing and
laughing, all the while wondering if he had something like that with Ginny… wishing that he'd
one day find it.*

*As the song ended he made his way onto the floor, bypassing an obviously annoyed Ginny as he
walked up to his two friends.*

*“May I cut in?”*

*Ron turned to him with a wide grin plastered onto his fac**e.* *“**Well*
*if it isn't the boy who lived-”*

*“***Ron***,” Hermione groaned, well aware of Harry's aversion to that nick
name.*

*Ron raised his hands**.* *“**Fine**, fine—I concede, but just so you know
Potter, I'm watching you, those hands better not go anywhere to low.”*

*With a chuckle he promised them that he'd control himself.*

*“So what's on your mind?” Hermione asked him as he some what awkwardly led her around the
dance floor.*

*“You two look happy.”*

*She smile**d.* *“well I doubt he's the love of my life, or that I'm his,
but yeah—I'm happy, he's good to me—***for** *me.”*

*Harry's eyes widened in surprise**.* *“**Not* *the love of your
life?”*

*“Come on Harry, I'm only eighteen! It's an important step in my life, and I'm
sure it'll be a defining relationship… I mean he's taught me so much about just letting go,
if it weren't for him I'd probably have had a nervous break down by now. I doubt we're
meant for one another though… we're just destined to be best mates.”*

*“I thought the point of dating was to find your soul mate.”*

*“That's for the girly girls out there.”*

*He cocked an eyebrow at her**.* *“**Really**?”*

*She blushed, burying her head in his chest**.* *“**Okay**, so maybe I
think that it's a relationship that prepares you for that final one… the true love. Like those
are the necessary steps that you need to take to become that person that you need to be to be with
your soul mate.”*

*“That sounded awfully girly there Granger.”*

*“Shut up Potter; don't mock me and my only remaining romantic fantasy.”*

*“I never mock Granger, merely comment. Plus I love you too much to ridicule you.”*

*“And then there's the fact that I could out smart you any day…”*

*“That too.”*

--

**one year later:**

“It's been far too long mate,” Neville greeted him with a hug once he reached their table in
the three broomsticks. “God, I missed this place, so glad you picked it.”

Harry grinned. “Figured it'd be a great place to meet up seeing as I haven't seen you in
a year, so worse comes to worse you and I can rehash in our old memories if we find that we have
nothing to talk about.”

“There's that positive Harry Potter that I know and love!” he laughed jovially at the
statement.

“Well if I'm anything it's consistent.”

“So how are you Harry, last I saw, you were still moping over Hermione's departure… and that
was a year *after* she left.”

Harry shrugged. “I still miss her, can't help it. I mean she doesn't even have time to
write more than once a week, albeit they are seven page letters, but still…”

“It's the principle of the matter, right?” Neville asked with a knowing smile.

“See I love how after Hogwarts you suddenly became so all knowing Nev, really makes it so much
easier for me.”

“You're welcome.” They sat in a comfortable silence, each focusing on reading the menu,
until Neville finally interrupted it, “are you really okay?”

Harry sighed. “I should have expected this one.” He put down the menu, raising a hand to rub his
temples, “honestly? I miss her… I can't help but miss her.”

“It's been two years Harry; I would have thought you'd get used to it by now.”

“So would I, but it's—it's just like the more I don't see her, the more haunted I am
by my memories of her. I can't stop thinking about her…”

“Here I thought that'd be a good thing, means you haven't forgotten about her.”

“If I tell you something you have to promise not to tell anyone Nev, *anyone*.”

“Come on Harry, it's me, you know I'm not like that.”

He paused for a second, leaning in nervously as he whispered “I think I'm falling in love
with her.”

Neville gave him a perplexed look in response. “I thought you said you haven't seen her
since she left.”

Harry groaned. “I haven't… it's just like when I'm left with these memories of her
all I can do is analyze our past, every moment we've spent together. I mean at first it was
just my guilt over not having been a better mate to her, but then… I don't know, it just sort
of manifested into something more…”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Harry shrugged, a pained frown marring his face. “Nothing I can do.”

Neville looked at him so pityingly that he almost regretted admitting it to him just then.
“Harry, mate-”

“*No*, she's given up so much for me, I'm not about to take something else away
from her now. I can't do that to her again.”

“So what, you're going to go and shag every girl in London until you find the love of you
life?”

Harry gave him a pained smile. “Well I haven't really worked out *all* of the details
yet.”

Neville frowned. “But that's pretty much about it, isn't it?”

“I just—I need to get my mind off of her,” Harry reasoned.

“Seems like a pretty stupid mondus operandi to me.”

“Well I was never known for my tact anyway.”

“Too true.”

-->



7. losing rationale
-------------------



**Chapter VII: losing rationale**

--

*"All explorers are seeking something they have lost. It is seldom that they find it, and
more seldom still that the attainment brings them greater happiness than the quest."*

*-**Arthur C. Clarke*

--

*“What's bothering you today?” he heard her annoyed voice ask him as she took a seat next
to him on the window sill of the Gryffindor common room.*

*“Do I sense a bit of aggravation in your tone?” he asked,* *amusedly* *cocking an
eyebrow at h**e**r.*

*“Naturally, Voldemort's dead and you still find cause to mope. You truly are one of a
kind**,* *Harry,” she commented with a* *slightly* *pained smile.*

*He let out a small chortle at hearing her sarcastic quip.* *“How* *do you always
know just what to say to make me feel better?”*

*“I've told you time and time again Potter; I'm just perfect like that.
Now**,* *come on, tell me what's bothering you.”*

*He shrugged**.* *“**Nothing* *special.”*

*“You know**,* *Potter,* *it's quite pathetic when the bookworm has to tell
you to learn to seize the day. You're always so broody, and**,* *yes, many of the
girls sure**ly find it sexy, but I'm afraid your* *mates would beg to differ,” she
told him with a wink. “Just let it go Harry, there's no point in crying over spilt milk. You
finally have the chance to* **really** *have a life, take advantage of that. Carpe
diem**,* *Harry, carpe diem,” she told him with a smile before getting up to
leave.*

--

“You know how we had that conversation a week ago?” Neville asked as he let himself into
Harry's office, taking the liberty of seating himself on the couch.

Harry's eyebrow furrowed in confusion. “Not that I don't love your company, mate, but
what are you doing here?—I thought professors were supposed to be dedicated to their work.”

“No Herbology classes until one today so I thought I'd come and visit you, apparated from
Hogsmeade,” he explained with a noncommittal wave. “Anyway, back onto more important matters,
remember what we talked about then?”

“Well it'd be rather pathetic if I forgot given what my confession was,” Harry rolled his
eyes as he returned his attention to the paperwork he had previously been working on.

“Eyes up then because I have an important question.”

“And I have important work to do so I'm afraid it's not going to happen, deadline's
in two hours and I've only just started,” he distractedly told him as he rifled through some
papers, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.

“Okay fine, reasonable enough. So here's the thing, ever since you said what you did,
I've been thinking-”

“Lo and behold, he *can* use his brain,” Harry teased him with a grin.

“Yes I can, and I must say I'm rather talented at it too. Now I shall astound you with my
brilliance through one question.”

“And what's that?” Harry asked him as he took out a quill and began writing a few notes on
the work he'd been reading.

“Well… okay, so don't be offended or anything by this question… I mean if you think about
it, it's a perfectly reasonable thing to ask…” Neville stumbled, the old nervous teenage
version of him slowly reappearing with each word.

“Nev, whatever it is, it's fine, I trust you. Just say what you need to say.”

He did exactly that as he tactlessly spat out the words. “Are you sure you're in love with
her?”

Harry's quill slipped as he heard the question and he lifted his head to look at Neville,
who had moved from the couch and was currently pacing the room. “What do you mean?”

“Well it's like this… I was thinking about everything that you said and your history with
girls-”

Comprehension dawned upon him as the confused frown that was marring his face quickly
disappeared. “In other words Ginny.”

“Yeah,” Neville sheepishly admitted.

Harry clenched his jaw as he forced himself to stay rational and not let his temper get the best
of him, a great feat on his part. “So how'd that lead to this then?”

“Well what if you're not in love with her, but the idea of her. I mean it's easy to fall
for her… she could easily be a savior of sorts… I just can't help but wonder if it's
misplaced affection.”

“It's not.”

“But how can you be so sure? I mean you haven't seen her in two years now, she's not the
same person anymore; you know that as well as I do, whether you choose to admit it or not. Really,
the entire point of leaving was so that she *could* change, to become someone else; so how can
you be so sure that you'll love this person as well?”

“I get letters from her-”

“But that's it, your only form of communication, Harry.”

He let out a deep groan. “Have you ever felt like that missing piece… without it life felt
worthless?”

“That could be for a friend too, Harry,” Neville reasoned.

“*Have* *you*?” he gruffly repeated.

“No.”

“I've felt that way for two years now, I miss her and there's nothing I can do about it.
All I have now are these memories of her, ones that I'm replaying in my mind nonstop so I can
at least have her by me in some form or another. I fell in love with her as I analyzed each moment,
remembered her reaction to everything, how she supported me, teased me… how she was always
there.”

“But Harry… what if it's just some sort of misplaced affection?”

“It's not!” he adamantly defended himself, almost petulantly so.

“Have you ever thought that maybe you told me because subconsciously or something you wanted me
to tell you that it wasn't true, because maybe you needed someone to tell you that it was all a
farce?”

Harry shook his head. “That's not it.”

“I can't deny the fact that I think you could learn from Ron's example—take a page from
his book, so to speak. Don't let that one event dictate the rest of your life like this.
He's moved on and so should you,” Neville let out a deep breath. “But, then again, I guess I
also can't change your mind, you have to be willing to do that on your own, on your own terms
too. I can see that much at least… but be careful mate, when she comes back, whenever that may be,
you may find that you're severely disappointed if you realize that you were only in love with
an idea this entire time. It's a horrible fate, that's a feeling I know, and I'm
telling you now, it can break you,” he told him before exiting the office.

-->



8. losing yourself
------------------



**Chapter VIII: losing yourself**

--

*“Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.”
-Washington Irving*

--

*“Are you happy Harry?” she asked him, looking up into his eyes as he held her in a tight
embrace.*

*“Of course I am, my best mate woke me up at three in the morning because of* *her inane
fear of thunderstorm—* *never better,**”* *he sarcastically* *muttered**,
rolling his eyes as he slightly pinched her waist.*

*“I'm serious**,* *Harry,” she said with* *a rather* *somber*
*tone that**,* *for some* *reason,* *disturbed him far more than that it*
*probably* *should* *have**.*

*“Are you happy?”* *she repeated, her tone a tad bit more forceful the second time
around.*

*He shrugged**.* *“I'm getting there.”*

*She nodded solemnly, burying her head in his chest* *upon* *hearing the
thunderstorm outside* *growing* *louder**.* *“**You* *should be happy
though. I mean it's been four years since you defeated him Harry… you should have moved on by
now.”*

*“Life's not perfect**,* *Hermione, you know that.”*

*“No,**” she sighed, “**but* *it's pretty damn good to us too. You're
twenty-one Harry, finished Auror training, getting some amazing cases… you should be
happy.”*

*“And I will be,**”* *he promised her, albeit unsure of the truth to that statement
even as he gave her the empty assurance. He didn't consider it lying though, no, for her
he'd try to get there… he just wasn't quite sure of how successful he'd be at reaching
that ever illusive goal.*

*“When?”*

*“Someday, but for now I have you and Ron… and Ginny.”*

*“You won't always be able to rely on us**,* *Harry, one day you're going to
ha**ve to learn to support yourself—* *be happy on your own. You won't ever be able
to make another person happy until you can do that**, you know**.”*

*He arched an eyebrow at he**r.* *“**Are* *you saying that I don't
make you happy?”*

*She giggled slightly**.* *“**Well* *I've learned to find the light in
broody Harry by mocking him, but you might not be so lucky with someone else.”*

*“Well**,* *for now**,* *I have you so all's good with the world,” he
told her with a charming smile.*

*“It might not always be that way though,” she muttered into his chest.*

*The next day was the day that she told him she was leaving.*

--

**six months later.**

“She's a whore—a vapid slag, more exactly,” Ron bluntly admitted as he and Harry watched his
latest girlfriend talk to a somewhat scared looking Luna.

Harry shrugged, not taking the least bit of offense to the comment. “Never said she
wasn't.”

“Then why are you with her—*them*?”

“Nothing better to do I guess… and it's a good distraction—it's fun, and that's
exactly what I need right now.”

“Bloody hell mate there are tons of better things to do. I mean I get that shagging all of the
witches in England has got to be fun… but seriously, don't you ever get bored of it? In the end
it's just another shag, but who's there for you when you need company, not just a hand
job?”

“I have you for that one,” he told him with a smirk.

“The fuck bunnies aren't always going to be enough mate.”

Harry turned to him with an amused look. “*F**uck* *bunnies*?

“What? I don't see anything wrong with it—loved the term when Hermione used it, and it was
definitely worth a repeat.”

Harry stiffened at hearing Ron's words. “Hermione? What does she have to do with this?”

“Oh you know, she asked me if you finally had a special lady in your life sicne she noticed you
hadn't mentioned many girls ever since you and Ginny broke up so I told her about some of your
latest escapades. You know I had no idea how much she missed out on since she can't get the
Prophet there—that's some good quality gossip that she was totally unaware of… *Anyway*,
she now refers to your little friends as fuck bunnies.”

“You didn't have to tell her *that*,” Harry told him through gritted teeth, his jaw
clenched as he tried to control the sudden, but nonetheless potent, urge to strangle Ron.

“Why not? She thought it was funny anyway… well after she apparently got over the initial nausea
of your man-whoreness,” he amended with a chuckle.

“Great,” he said with a miserable sigh as he threw his head into his hands, angrily pulling at
his hair.

“Cheer up, mate, we're supposed to be celebrating the fact that I proposed to the Missus
last night, not moping.”

Harry rolled his eyes before turning to send Ron a chilling glare. “Well I would be if my best
mate didn't tell Hermione the last thing I ever wanted her to know.”

“Well then you should have been more vocal about that point,” Ron shrugged.

“Shut up.”

“Oh come on, we should be celebrating. After all, I'm an engaged man now, Luna's
officially stuck with me… plus, you know what else that means, don't you?” Ron asked him with a
conspiratory wink.

Harry eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No, what?”

“Our dear old Hermione's finally coming back after three years of being away,” he told him
with a jovial grin.

-->



9. finding something old again
------------------------------



**Chapter IX: finding something old again**

--

*“People find life to be entirely too time consuming” -Stanislaw Jerzy Lec*

--

“Is that really my Hermione?” Ron exclaimed with a jovial grin as he rushed toward her and
pulled her into a tight embrace, shamelessly lifting her off the floor and twirling her around,
making a total fool of himself in the middle of the arrival gate at the airport.

She giggled as she held on for dear life until he finally put her down, before finally turning
her attention to Harry once they separated she turned to look at Harry and, if possible, her grin
grew wider at the sight of him. “Come on Harry, aren't you going to greet an old mate?”

He let out a laugh, shrugging as he said “I wasn't quite sure if I deemed you worthy of one
of my world class hugs yet.”

She grimaced at hearing his comment, her nose scrunching up in distaste. “My God that ego of
yours really is something, isn't it?”

“Well there's a lot to be vain about, don't you know,” he told her with a wink, even
flexing an arm to further annoy her.

Despite herself a smile tugged at her lips as she watched her best mate make a fool of
himself—she really did have a knack for surrounding herself with “brilliant” people. “Just hug me
you bloody arse, I've missed it far too much to put up with all of these pretenses right
now.”

He grinned at her as he pulled her into a tight embrace, whispering into her ear “anything for
you Hermione, you know that; I never could say no to you, whether I liked it or not…”

He took a deep breath as he slowly took in the scent of her perfume while reveling in feel of
the woman who he had been so sure was an apparition when he'd first seen her only minutes ago.
“Bloody hell, I've missed you Hermione… it's been far too long.”

“*Ugh*, God, it really has been,” she said, letting out a deep breath of relief, that she
didn't even know she had been holding in, as she tightened her hold on him.

--

“Well Ron's officially way past the passed out phase—didn't even wake as I took off his
clothes,” Hermione laughed as she took a seat on the chesterfield by Harry.

“Yeah, sorry about him, he wanted to stay up until late, he really did, but he's been doing
a lot of extra work for the joke shop so he wouldn't get behind when he came back from the
honeymoon,” Harry admitted as he threw an arm across the back of Hermione's seat, pulling her
closer to him.

She immediately moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I've missed this—I
mean, when you go on without this so long, as I did, you almost forget what it's like to be
here, but then… then you come back and it just… you see everything that you've been missing out
on this entire time, I suppose.”

“But you were happy there at least, weren't you?”

She smiled up at him. “Yeah, of course I was. I mean there isn't a more fulfilling
profession for someone like me, but still… sometimes I just wonder if it was worth it—losing you
two.”

Harry, despite himself, winced at her words. “*Well*, I wouldn't say that you lost
us.”

“I didn't mean it like that—just in the physical sense. I mean even when we wrote letters to
one another I just… I felt like I wasn't part of your lives anymore… as if I didn't
matter.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he nudged her playfully. “We couldn't get rid of you if we wanted
to, Hermione; you know that well enough that I shouldn't even have to remind you of it.”

“You're an insensitive arse, you know that, Harry?” she pouted.

“Oh come on, Hermione, as if you could ever lose us, that's absolutely preposterous.”

“It's not that—I just felt as if I couldn't be a part of it anymore because I left… and
I mean it *is* my fault-”

“Hey—hey—hey,” he said, untangling himself from her so he could look at her face to face.
Placing a finger under her chin and lifting her head so that she was looking into his eyes, he was
shocked by the sight of the tears forming in her eyes. “You did what you had to do and we
*all* understood that,” he told her as he slowly wiped a tear away with his rough, calloused
thumb.

“But was it worth it?—I mean look at everything that I've missed because I was gone,” she
protested.

He smiled at her slowly. “How about this, you and I can go out tomorrow and I'll bore you
with *all* of the details of my past three years without you.”

As she heard his suggestion the frown that had been marring her face quickly evaporated.
“Everything?—Even the boring details that I've already read about in the letters?”

“In such excruciating detail that you'll be begging me to stop,” he winked at her as he
pulled her into a tight embrace. “And, just so you know, I expect the same from you.”

“Deal,” she whispered as she gave him a peck on the cheek.

-->



10. finding the path
--------------------



**Chapter** **X:** **finding the path**

--

*“I know nothing about platonic love except that it is not to be found in the works of
Plato”*

*-Anonymous*

--

“Okay, tell me about the fuck bunnies,” she eagerly ordered as she sat across from him in the
secluded corner at the Three Broomsticks, where they had agreed upon having their “tell all, hide
nothing” sharing fest, as she'd so aptly named it.

Harry, who had been taking a sip form his fire whiskey at the moment, choked slightly at her
words. “I didn't know Hermione Granger even knew how to curse.”

“Well I had to pick up something after being mates with you and Ron, not to mention I dated
him.”

“I'll give you that much at least,” he nodded in understanding. “But, honestly, why do you
call it that? It doesn't seem very… *you*.”

She shifted uncomfortably at his words, the tone of the conversation quickly sobering. “Well
what do you expect me to call them, Harry? I'm just trying to make light of a situation that I
don't approve of at all. I mean, seriously, what am I supposed to say to this? After all, you
already know I disapprove of it whether I say anything or not—you know me, and that's
enough.”

Harry shrugged pathetically, merely muttering “you never made any comments about it.”

“Honestly? I wasn't sure if it was my place anymore… I mean I did leave,” she admitted with
a small, sheepish smile.

He chuckled lightly. “It's always your place, whether I want to admit it or not, you always
have the right to meddle in my life,” he assured her.

She grinned. “Thanks, Harry; that means a lot to hear. I guess… I mean there I was in Africa and
you two were here and I just didn't know where my place was in your lives—whether I even had
one anymore… whether I really had the right to comment anymore, and I was scared to—I just
didn't want to ruin whatever we had left…”

They both sat in an awkward silence for a minute, each letting the words seep in, hitting them
full force. He finally interrupted the hush, taking her by surprise, by letting out a deep sigh.
“What is it?”

“Pardon?” she asked him innocently, slightly wide eyed by how intuitive he'd become.

“What is it that you want to ask me? I can tell that there's something bothering you, I know
you well enough that I can at least see that much.”

She smiled slightly at his words, biting her lip nervously as she got up the courage to ask the
question that had been plaguing her mind for so long. “What happened to you?—I mean, you
weren't like this when I first left. There was Ginny, Alison, and Victoria-”

He snorted slightly, interrupting to correct her. “Try Alice and Vicky.”

“I thought those were nicknames or something,” she sheepishly admitted with a giggle, as she
took a drink from her butter beer, primarily to hide her blush.

Harry nodded understandingly. “Yeah… well, they weren't.”

Hermione glared at him slightly for pointing out the obvious. “Whatever, back onto a matter of
importance… why do you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well come on Harry, you weren't always this… well, *randy*!” she said, barely
containing the blush that was slowly creeping up her neck. “There was a time when you were
perfectly capable of controlling the little guy by actually *committing* yourself to a
relationship—in fact, I remember that time well. So tell me, why's that so impossible now?”

Harry merely shrugged, letting out a grunt as he mumbled “I don't know.”

“Nice, Harry, really eloquent response you gave there,” she sarcastically quipped, rolling her
eyes.

“I just—I don't really want to talk about it.”

She flinched slightly at that admission, but, for once, she didn't say anything, she merely
tightly muttered “okay, *fine*, I understand… I'll just let it go.”

“Hermione-”

“No,” she firmly stopped him. “I understand… I do.”

Despite the fact that he may have tried to broach the subject again, try to make up for being
such an arse, she wouldn't hear of it, never giving him the opportunity to actually try and
explain himself. With a defeated sigh he finally let the subject be dropped. “So… tell me about
Africa.”

A smile quickly took over her face as she began gushing over her experience in the country. “Oh
God, it was amazing, Harry. I mean there wasn't much time, or a place, for partying or
anything, so my wardrobe now just consists of jeans and t-shirts… but aside from the fact that I
really need to go shopping, it was fantastic!—Bloody hell, I'm rambling, aren't I?”

He smiled at her, nodding. “You are, but you do it so well.”

She scoffed. “Sure I do, but, anyway, the point it is: Africa was *amazing*.”

“I was able to gather as much, but was there anything else? You can't tell me it was classic
Hermione, all work and no play.” His eyes suddenly widened, practically bugging out of his head as
the daunting realization hit him. “Bloody hell, please tell me it wasn't.”

“No, I *have* changed Harry!” she said, rolling her eyes at the cliché he used to describe
her.

He eyed her silently after those words left her mouth, slowly nodding his head. “I know you
have, I've noticed. It may not be in the big ways, but you look content… finally comfortable in
your own skin, and it's great to see.”

She bit her lip as she shyly smiled at him. “Thanks, it's nice to hear that you think
so.”

Immediately sensing the fatal danger of the situation, at least on his part, Harry cleared his
throat. “So what did you do in your free time?”

“Well… there were these four guys,” she admitted a bit timidly, blushing as she made the
admission.

“Doesn't that saying usually go `well there was this one guy?'” he teased her with a
raised eyebrow.

“Well yes, but it isn't really true if I say it was one bloke, now is it?”

“True, true; you always could easily out smart me, there's really no point in me bothering
with ever doubting you.”

“Too true, and don't you forget it,” she winked at him.

“So tell me about these blokes that actually managed to do the impossible and get your
attention?”

She blushed. “I'm not a prude, Harry!”

“I know you're not, love, don't worry, but it's still fun to tease you regardless,”
he told her with a grin as he called for Rosmerta to refill they're recently downed drinks.
“So, I remember one was named Hugo, kind of drawing a blank with the rest.”

She let out a snort at his confession. “*Figures*.”

“Oh don't be like that, you were with that bloke for a year and a half, the other three were
just passing fancies.”

“*A**ctually*, that's not totally true, I did fancy myself in love with this one
bloke, the Russian one, Marko, only realized after he had to go back that it wasn't so much
love as an insatiable lust,” she admitted with a sheepish smile, covering her face with her hands
as she felt it getting redder by the second.

He let out a deep chortle. “Never knew you were that kind of a girl, Hermione.”

“Well things change, Harry; you know that as well as I do.”

He nodded slowly as he quietly agreed, playing with his glass of fire whiskey, watching the
drink swirl in the cup with rapt attention.

“This feels weird, doesn't it?”

Harry's head quickly shot up at the words, eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement, forcing her to
elaborate.

“Talking to you about this—I mean… we never really talked about my relationships before… well
unless it was about Ron, and even that was sort of kept at a minimum, wasn't it?”

“That's the problem though, it was always about me, never about you; I just—I was hoping to
change that, be a better mate to you… like—like you deserve,” he admitted slowly with a small,
typical on his part, shrug.

She let out a sigh, rubbing her temples as his words hit her full force. “Harry, don't ever
think that again. What I said—what I said back then, before I left… I shouldn't have, it was so
wrong of me, not to mention horribly inconsiderate and *bitchy*-”

“No, don't say that… I mean… it may not have been fun to hear, but you had a point, I
can't deny that-”

She smiled at him sweetly, raising a hand to his face as she rubbed his cheek lovingly.
“You're just too kind sometimes, far too forgiving. But you're wrong…” she let out a deep
breath, pausing as she grasped for the words that constantly seemed to evade her.

“When I was in Africa that was the one thing that almost ruined the experience, I was just… I
felt so guilty over what I had said. It wasn't true, I let my emotions get the best of me, but
the fact is that a friendship isn't about loving someone for the good, but the bad—loving them
for their faults. I never did that before, not really… but I mean—I'm learning how to now. I
didn't deserve your forgiveness for that one, Harry; you just don't say things like that to
friends—much less *best* friends. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for everything that I
said… if anything it was my fault for never having confronted you, I shouldn't have gone off as
I did, it was terribly timed and horribly cruel.”

He sat there silently for a minute, unsure as to what to say in response to that, before he
finally spoke. “I guess we both made our fair share of mistakes.”

She scoffed. “That's an understatement.”

“But we'll make it regardless, won't we?”

She smiled at him, nodding slowly. “I think we're already well on our way there.”

-->



11. finding trouble with karma
------------------------------



**Chapter XI: finding trouble with karma**

--

*“We are made to persist. That's how we find out who we are”*

*-Anonymous*

--

Harry was a strong believer in karma; it had more than kept him going throughout the war—that
reliance on the fact that good would prevail regardless of whatever happened, the universe just
wouldn't let something like that go, such an imbalance was unacceptable—and he was appalled to
find that it was that exact theory that he had always relied so heavily upon that was currently
screwing him over. As he moodily made his way towards the greenhouses at Hogwarts he contemplated
every misdeed he'd ever done.

Sure, he'd been savior of the wizarding world, but that had already awarded him with an
amazing job. No, this karma, *this* karma was far worse than anything that he had ever
anticipated.

Karma of the heart—he was sure that that was what was cursing him, keeping Hermione from him. It
was that same distraction that he had used to keep himself sane while she was gone that was keeping
him from a permanent state of sanity that could only be achieved through her.

Karma was a bitch, one that, albeit—he grudgingly admitted—understandably, felt a need to punish
him for screwing over so many woman in the past.

He grumbled angrily, muttering incoherent words as he stalked towards his destination, trying to
think of anything that would keep those thoughts, that he dreaded so much, at bay—desperately
hoping that there was some hope, because if what he thought to be true was… well then he really
didn't stand a chance in hell. After all, no one, *no* *one*, goes up against karma
and comes up victorious, just look at old Voldy.

He shuddered at the reminder as he quietly opened the door to the Herbology class that was
currently taking place.

“Oi!” he heard Neville exclaim. “Peters, I know that you blokes are just discovering girls and
all, but you may want to consider the fact that you won't be able to take much advantage of
that if the Nepenthes *kills* you.”

At hearing those words of advice Harry couldn't help but let out a deep chuckle,
inadvertently gaining the unwanted attention of the majority of the class. Almost instantly the
class erupted in an uncontrollable chatter as all of the students “inconspicuously” discussed the
newest guest—each daring one another to go up and talk to the famous wizard that had just entered
the room.

Neville let out an aggravated sigh as Harry just sent him a sheepish and apologetic smile. “Well
obviously you won't be getting anything done today and I can't have you gossiping when
there are carnivorous plants in front of you, so class dismissed,” he said, immediately admitting
to the imminent defeat as he really didn't care for wasting time uselessly trying to regain
their intention when it was obviously an impossible feat anyway.

His announcement, however, was only met with blank stares.

“Out, *now*. Mr. Potter and I have something to discuss, and unless you want to help put
away these plants I'd recommend that you go.”

The class immediately left the room upon that threat, the scarce few actually trying to get up
the courage to talk to Harry before giving up and leaving under the scrutinizing glare of their
professor.

“So I take it today wasn't a particularly good day for me to come in then,” Harry noted as
he took a seat across from Neville, who was currently cradling his head in hands as he sat at his
desk.

“Sorry about that; been having some problems with Lavender recently so I'm on edge. Plus,
there's the added bonus that I had to deal with a class of randy prepubescent teenagers that
weren't paying any attention at all when working with carnivorous plants of all things!”

“Any chance you're willing to give some advice to a randy twenty-four year old?” he asked
him with a grin.

Neville let out a slightly choked laugh, sighing as he raised his head so he was looking at
Harry in the eyes. “What's the latest in the trials and tribulations of Harry Potter's love
life?”

“Well it's not so much-”

Neville, however, interrupted him by raising a doubtful eyebrow.

Harry clenched his jaw. “Okay, so it kind of is. Now will you let me get on with the story?”

“Why don't you ever bother Ron with this?”

Harry winced at the reminder of that particular memory. “Well to tell him would mean that
I'd have to tell him what happened when she left and, honestly, I doubt he needs that guilt.
Even if she didn't mean it, there's some truth to those words and Ron and Hermione both
don't need something like that always overshadowing their relationship.”

“Well then, I guess all I can say is `yay me',” Neville grimly muttered.

“You're awfully sarcastic with your biting words today, Nev, when was the last time you had
a decent shag?” he asked him with a grin as Neville took out a bottle of fire whiskey from his
desk, along with two glasses, and poured them each a drink.

“Two weeks,” Neville muttered, a blush quickly spreading on his face as he admitted to the
fact.

Harry's eyes widened. “Bloody hell mate!—You know you *do* have a girlfriend, one who
lives with you no less, that should come with a guarantee!”

“Doesn't exactly work that way, mate. I mean, I know it's been a while since you've
been in a serious committed relationship, but when they're mad at you for working too much, you
usually don't get to reap in the benefits of having a live in girlfriend. Anyway, I'd
really rather not talk about me as that's rehashing a lot of memories that I'd rather not
revisit; what's going on with you?”

“Well, you see, I'm having a hard time deciding where I go from here,” he told him as he
took a large gulp of his fire whiskey.

Neville gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I guess I'd just hoped that when she came back everything would be back to how it was
before, only this time she'd magically fall in love with me,” he stated simply, not even
bothering to pretend to be abashed by the absurdity of the theory.

“I've got news for you mate: that kind of magic just doesn't exist.”

“Yeah, slowly starting to realize that one as well,” he told him with a small smile.

“So then I guess it comes down to one question.”

“Yeah, and what's that?” Harry asked curiously.

“Do you want to take the risk?”

He groaned; he really should have expected that one. “I've never felt this way about anyone,
Nev.”

Neville let out a deep sigh, setting down him drink as he leaned foreword in his chair,
scrutinizing Harry all the while. “I have my reservations about it-”

Harry nodded solemnly, looking down at his drink in an attempt to avoid watching Neville inspect
him. “I know.”

“But you say you love her, and I want you both to be happy; so whatever you need, I'm here
for you, mate.”

Harry smiled up at him. “What's the next step then?”

“Wait, just get to know her again, you two are different people now, you know that as well as I
do, Harry.”

“You know, you understand women far too well.”

Neville snorted. “Please, how else could I handle Lavender?”

Harry chuckled. “Come on; you and I have to go plan something bloody romantic that'll get
you back in her bed.”

“Oh thank God because I'm at a total loss here, feels like I've already done everything
else all those other times she got mad at me…”

--

**author's note****:** *not sure how well I pulled off this chap so I'm open to
any comments lol.*

-->



12. finding what was there all along
------------------------------------



**Chapter XII:** **finding what was there all along**

--

*“If people are truly, madly, deeply in love with each other, they will find a way.”*

*-Anonymous*

--

“So, Hermione, I was hoping to ask you something,” Luna nervously approached her at the first of
seven engagement parties that people had planned for her—needless to say, there was *a lot* of
miscommunication between the various parties when they had learned of the upcoming nuptials.

“Sure, is anything wrong?” Hermione asked her with a concerned frown as Luna led her to a
secluded corner of Grimmauld Place's ballroom, where Harry was throwing the fest.

“I was—well, I was hoping you'd do me a favor…” she stumbled slightly, taking Hermione off
guard as she had only ever been acquainted with the serene, amusing Luna who never had a care in
the world.

“Whatever it is, Luna, I'm here for you, no matter what,” Hermione assured her, panicking
slightly.

“I—I was hoping you'd be my maid of honor,” she meekly told her, biting her lip slightly as
a faint blush traveled across her face.

Hermione's jaw went slightly slack at the news; she stood there in a state of sheer,
uncharacteristic, oblivion for what felt like hours before finally uttering the words that had been
running through her mind repeatedly. “Why me?”

“Well—um, I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have all that many really
close mates—but you… I don't know, there's something about you that I've always liked…
*respected*. And you did, technically, get Ron and me together when you set us up on that
blind date…”

Hermione smiled widely, before pulling the girl into a tight embrace. “I'd love to, Luna; I
just don't know why you'd ever want me of all people.”

“We may not have spent as much time together as I'd like, but I don't know—I think
there's something… it's as if the starwurst fairies are guiding us to one another, bringing
us together as mates.”

“I—I have no idea what that is, but I have a feeling I'll like learning about them,”
Hermione told her with an amused smile.

--

“Wotcher Harry,” she surprised him by taking a seat by him on the couch. “You really never were
one for parties, were you?”

“Well I like the talking to my mates part—just not all the other people who I don't know,
especially when they start talking to me out of nowhere,” he sheepishly admitted.

“*Nice*, so guess what!” she told him, a gleeful smile overtaking her face.

“What?” he asked her with a grin.

“You're looking at the new maid of honor!” she told him, hugging him in her state of
excitement.

“Bloody hell!”

Hermione nodded elatedly. “Yeah, she asked me half an hour ago!”

“Well, you know what they say about the maid of honor and best man, don't you?” he asked
her, wagging his eyebrows for emphasis.

“Nice, Harry, very gentleman like of you,” she told him with a grin, ruffling his hair
teasingly. “Now come on, let's dance!”

“Hermione,” he whined petulantly, stiffly sitting on the couch as she tried to pull him off of
it. “You know I hate dancing.”

“Come on Harry, how many times do you have a chance to dance with someone as brilliant as me?”
she asked with a wink.

He rolled his eyes as he got up. “Lead the way then.”

“Told you she had him wrapped around her little finger,” Neville whispered to Luna as the two
watched Hermione drag Harry onto the dance floor, teaching the poor bloke how to maintain some sort
of a rhythm.

“I think it's adorable,” Luna giggled.

-->



13. finding out
---------------



**Chapter XIII:** **finding out**

--

*“If love is such a `pure' thing, then why do we all have to go through hell to find
it?”*

*-Anonymous*

--

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” she asked him as they sat in the restaurant, each
enjoying a plate of fish and chips.

“Yeah,” he told her with a smile. “You went on your little tirade about how fish and chips are
the perfect, quintessential English dish—bloody hell you went on about that for twenty minutes, I
must admit, though, it truly was most impressive.”

She let out a loud laugh. “Well it's true, I firmly stand by that statement… you know, I
totally forgot about that…”

“Then what were you referring to?” he asked her curiously, as he popped another chip into his
mouth.

“That was the day you told me you were in love with Ginny… and could actually see yourself
marrying her one day.”

He winced at the memory, letting out a pained groan as he dramatically threw his head into his
hands. “Bloody hell, you remember *that*?”

“Of course I do, Harry, now I'd like to have that cleared up for me, please, because I
don't quite understand how you can go from that to breaking up with her a mere four months
later…”

“What even brought this on?” he moaned.

“I don't know,” she admitted, her eyebrows furrowing, and he could just imagine her trying
to piece the puzzle together in her head. “I was passing by here a few days ago and suddenly I just
remembered that conversation… then I thought about how you never really explained why you did it—so
I just let it go since I figured it might be too soon to talk about it or something, but you just
left it at that, never told me why you did it… and then, well here we are…” she told him as she
toyed with her drink, twirling the straw in her soda.

Harry shrugged.

“Bloody hell, Harry, stop shrugging! I'm so tired of that reaction from you, it's
annoying when you evade questions like that!” she chastised him, resisting the urge to slap the
bastard.

He smirked at her. “Some things really never change, you know that?”

She chuckled slightly as she bit her lip shyly. “Don't avoid the question Harry, it's
time for a walk down memory lane—a long overdue one.”

He sighed in defeat, no use avoiding it any longer unless he wanted to have the bullocks hexed
out of him. “I don't know… it just didn't feel right anymore.”

“Well that was definitely worth the three year wait, I mean, *wow*,” she sarcastically
quipped, rolling her eyes at his response as she huffily crossed her arms over her chest.

“Calm down, Hermione, I'll explain, I promise.”

She smiled slightly at the reassurance, her tense body quickly relaxing. “Well go on then,
I'm waiting.”

“It just felt as if—when we were young she was perfect for me, she was everything that I could
have ever hoped for in a girl, but the problem was—well, we grew up.”

“And? You two were like an institution.”

“So were you and Ron,” he retorted with a smirk.

“Oh please, people made us out to be some great love story—it was mainly a ton of arguments and
some raunchy make ups here and there, that was pretty much the extent of it, a healthy sex
life.”

Harry didn't know what to say that, he wasn't sure whether to feel pained at the mention
of her ex—and, more importantly, their sex life—or amused at her rather simple depiction of her
former relationship with their best friend.

“You and Ginny—well let's put it this way, neither Ron or I ever expected to marry one
another, it was just one of those necessary relationships that helped us grow as people, we knew
that. You and Ginny, however, you two expected to be forever.”

He shrugged. “I changed, she didn't. I was no longer the boy that just wanted a fun time and
a distraction, and she—she was still the little girl that would always be partially in love with
the idea of being with the savior of the wizarding world.”

She visibly winced at that last mention. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled.

He shrugged, again, only that time it didn't bother her as much, much to her surprise, as
well as his. “You have nothing to be sorry for; it was what it was—like you said, a nice learning
experience.”

She let out a small snort. “Using my words against me then, huh Harry?”

“Well you are the brains in this little trio of ours, I figure if I borrow from you I may
finally learn a thing or two,” he told her with a smirk.

“Good on you.”

--

“So can you believe it? I mean, our little Ronald is actually getting married,” she grinned as
she playfully pinched Ron's cheek, well aware of how much the action would annoy him.

“You're bloody annoying, you know that, Hermione?”

She beamed up at him. “I'm just teasing you; this is a monumental occasion—who would have
thought that you of all people would be the first one of us to get married.”

He stared at her dumbly for a second before cocking his head to side as he eyed her wearily. “I
don't know whether to feel offended or not…”

Harry grinned as he patted Ron on the back. “It's part of her talent mate, twisting it so we
don't see the underlying innuendo behind her words.”

“I've said it before and I'll say it again, `brilliant, but scary as hell.'”

“Oi!” Hermione complained, trying to hide the smile that was tugging on her lips.

“Do you deny it?” Harry asked her, cocking an eyebrow at her as the waiter set their drink in
front of them.

“Well, you know-”

“Don't even try, Hermione, you know it as well as we do. Anyway, it's how you kept us in
line all throughout Hogwarts,” Ron told her.

“Okay, so I *may* be a bit bossy at time.”

“Well at least she finally admitted to it, almost makes up for the hell she put us through all
of those years,” Harry quipped.

Hermione gasped. “Oh shush you.”

“And now it's back,” Harry noted with a teasing smile.

“So anyway, reason why I called for this little get together is I wanted to talk about the hen
party-”

“Ron!”

He, however, totally disregarded the undeniable warning in her tone as she said his name. “I was
hoping to go over the do's and don'ts for this whole affair.”

“Forget it, Ron, I'm planning it however I want to—I know Harry and there is no way my party
can be any worse than his stag night.”

“Oi!”

She turned to him, smiling as she raised an eyebrow at him challengingly. “Do you deny it?”

Harry paused for a second, frowning as he grumbled “no.”

“So wait… does that mean I really have no say?” Ron asked with a disgruntled look.

“Listen, I'll make sure nothing happens to her, Ron, but I'm not going to stop her from
having fun, I intend on being the best maid of honor I can be, and that includes planning one
stupendously amazing hen party.”

Ron frowned, visibly deflating upon that tirade. “There's no changing your mind about this,
is there?”

“Not a chance.”

-->



14. finding answers
-------------------



**Chapter XIV: finding answers**

--

*“You won't ever be happier until you find that special place where you belong…”*

*-Anonymous*

--

“so I'm shocked to see that you've actually found a way to make some time for me,
especially seeing as lately all of your attention has gone to a little know-it-all Gryffindor that
we all love,” Neville teased him as the pair sat at the Three Broomsticks, enjoying drinks on a
Hogsmeade weekend.

“Well there was also wedding stuff and work, give me some credit mate-”

“Okay, first of all, the wedding stuff is *with* Hermione. And, second of all, you asked
for desk duty for this month since Hermione was back and you didn't want to be dragged into a
mission—I recall your exact words were `need to make sure all of my attention is on my best
girl'—or, you know, something along those lines,” Neville commented with a smirk.

“Don't get jealous just because she's prettier than you, Nev, after all, green never was
a good color on you.”

Neville shuddered slightly at the thought. “Bloody hell, imagine me in Slytherine during
*our* time, Malfoy would have skinned me alive.”

Harry chuckled as he was unable to deny the truth behind that statement, particularly when an
image of a younger Neville flashed through his mind.

“So how are things with Lav going?”

“Exceedingly well, she's let me back into the bedroom so all is well with the world.”

“For now,” Harry quipped with a small snort.

“Sadly, I can't deny that one,” Neville sheepishly admitted. “So, seriously, how are things
fairing on the Hermione front?”

“It's going well, we're getting back to where we used to be and that's really the
most important thing for us now. We spent a lot of time apart, and I don't know—I'm kind of
enjoying reacquainting myself with her. She's always been fun to be with.”

Neville nodded quietly in understanding. They sat in silence, each drinking their whiskeys as
they watched the Hogwarts students pass through the establishment, breaking out into whispers
whenever they noticed their professor's company.

“Okay, so what is it that you're dying to say?” Harry finally blurted out, effectively
interrupting the silence. “There's something that's bothering you, so out with it
mate.”

“Well—okay, when I say this you have to promise not to be offended… it was just something that I
was thinking about a few nights back,” Neville rambled nervously.

“What is it, Nev?”

“Have you ever wondered what would have happened had Ron not been getting married?” Neville
quickly asked before taking a large sip of his drink, primarily to avoid looking at Harry.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, utterly baffled by whatever he was insinuating.

Neville sighed, he had really hoped that he wouldn't have to go into detail on that. “Okay…
well what would have happened between you and Hermione had there not been a wedding? Where would
she be right now?”

--

He knocked on the door to her hotel room only to be met with the sight of a Hermione dressed
casually in a football jersey and shorts, tilting her head at him questioningly, silently asking
him why the hell he was there.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked her as he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the
other.

“Sure, Harry,” she told him with a wide smile as she let him in—hoping that his nerves would
calm after they spoke about whatever it was that was bothering him at the moment. “So what is it
that you needed to talk about?” she asked him, taking a seat on the couch of the common room area
as she watched him pace the room.

“You have to promise to be honest with me—regardless of whatever your answer may be… regardless
of whether or not it'll hurt my feelings.”

She nodded slowly, almost hesitantly, as she said “I've never lied to you before, don't
plan on starting now.”

He stopped for a moment, a small smile tugging on his lips as his expression considerably
softened at hearing her reassuring words. He let out a deep breath as he walked over to her,
kneeling in front of her so that he could look her straight in the eyes as he asked “had it not
been for Ron's wedding would you have come back?”

He noted how she stiffened slightly at the question, sucking in a deep breath of surprise at
hearing his words. “I—I don't know.”

His eyes darkened as he stiffly asked “you don't know?”

She shook her head weakly as she gave her choked response. “I just don't know…”

“So *this*, all of this—*us,* we're not enough, are we?” he asked her coldly,
revolted by the fact that seeing her flinch gave him some sort of a twisted sense of satisfaction
because he was able to hurt her as she had him.

“No, Harry,” she exclaimed as she jumped out of her seat, running after him as he made his way
towards the door. “Don't walk away; just hear me out, will you? *Please*!”

He stiffly turned to her, jaw clenched as he held a death grip on the knob. “What is it that you
need to say now?”

“It's just—I'm a selfish bitch, Harry, one who's only thought of herself for these
past three years Harry. But I don't—I don't want to be *that* person anymore, I hate
*that* girl.”

“Then don't be her,” he muttered gruffly.

“And I won't,” she let out a sigh as she nervously toyed with the hem of her shirt. “I put
in for a transfer today—that's why I couldn't have lunch with you and Neville. A while back
I started organizing this separate branch for healers without borders where we'd have the
patients transported to institutions where healers could do pro bono work since they're not
affiliated with us, we were hoping it's help us branch out and be able to help more people. I…
today I decided to take the position heading it here, in England,” she rambled on nervously.

His face showed absolutely no reaction to her confession as he continued to tensely stare at
her, but she noticed how his vice grip on the door knob loosened. Smiling at the small, but
significant change she said “I left once, but I can't do it again. You and Ron… *and*
Luna, you're all a part of me. I didn't see it before, but life without you three, it's
just not worth all that much. I was a blind and selfish idiot before, it was one thing to leave,
but going away for three years without coming back, it's just wrong. Is there any way
you'll forgive me—*really* forgive me?”

He smiled slightly, despite himself, as he let go of the knob, shocking her by suddenly pulling
her into a tight embrace, whispering into her hair “who can forgive you if those that love you most
can't, right?”

She beamed up at him as tears streamed down her face. “Thank you.”

--

**author's note****: some of you may hate me for the fact that I had Hermione apologize
for the fact that she left, but please do understand that while I'm a firm believer that she
had the right to—needed to leave so she could be her own person, there is a limit you can go
without visiting your friends, conflicting schedules just isn't an excuse, I wanted to have her
realize that.**

**I like writing faulty characters, I** **hate** **perfection; I think** **t****hat
when you fall in love with a person it should be for their faults, not the good
st****uff—that's just too easy.** **And** **that's** **also** **why I
write** **Harry and Hermione the way I do, I like having faulty characters.**

**Hope I didn't disappoint anyone…**

-->



15. finding more
----------------



**Chapter XV: finding** **more**

--

*“You are not discovering yourself, but creating yourself anew. Seek, therefore, not find out
who you are, seek to determine who you want to be.”*

*-Anonymous*

--

“So you're staying?” Ron incredulously asked her for the fifth time since she had
“officially” announced it to him, Luna, and Harry at the three broomsticks, where they had met up
for an impromptu lunch that was called to order by Hermione.

“Yeah,” Hermione told him with a shy smile as she nervously bit her lip.

“Oh I just knew that something like this would happen, the starwurst fairies always play with
fate like this!” Luna happily exclaimed as she pulled Hermione, who was sitting to her left, into a
one crushing embrace.

“I think you may have really been onto something with that one,” Hermione told her with a
laugh.

“Starwurst fairies?” Harry asked with a quizzical look.

“Protectors of all platonic bonds,” Hermione told him with an amused smile.

“You remembered,” Luna commented with a surprised beam.

“Naturally—after all, the bride's always right,” Hermione told her with a teasing wink.

“But bloody hell, Hermione,” Ron exclaimed, still in a state of shock. “You're
back—you're really back then?”

“I do believe that that's what I just said,” she teased him.

“This is great Hermione, really… I—we've missed you.”

“Ron, you look like you're about to cry with how you're going on like that,
*please*, don't pull a Hagrid on me!”

He grinned at her. “You're mean, you know that, right?”

“But you love me for it anyway.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes as she batted her eyelashes obnoxiously at him. “Well I'd love
to hear you go on about how amazing you are, but I'm afraid that Luna and I have a cake tasting
session to attend to—one that I'd really prefer not to miss.”

“It's one of the few things that he actually enjoys doing for our wedding,” Luna told them
as the couple got up and Ron helped her into her coat.

“Well what else is there to enjoy?” he muttered moodily as he thought back on all the hellish
tasks he'd been coerced into doing for the damn affair.

“Too true mate, too true,” Harry sympathetically nodded in agreement.

Hermione let out a deep sigh after Ron and Luna had left. “And then there were two.”

“Yeah, seems to be like that a lot recently, doesn't it?”

“Eh, I guess we can't really blame them, I mean they're trying to plan a wedding with
over a hundred guests in just two months, but *still*-”

“You miss having an entire afternoon with them?” Harry asked her with a knowing smile as he
relaxed his arm on the back of her chair.

“Exactly, that makes me sound so selfish, doesn't it?”

Harry shrugged. “We all have our faults.”

“But I was going for perfection Harry!” she told him with an exasperated sigh. “*God*, I
thought you knew me better than *that*, even Malfoy knows that fact!”

Harry chuckled at her outburst. “You know what I just realized?”

“What?” Hermione asked as she settled into his chest.

“We never really celebrated the fact that you're moving back here. Last night when you told
me—we never really got the chance to revel in it…”

“And?”

“And lets do it tonight; I want to make up for it.”

She chuckled softly. “There's nothing to make up for, Harry.”

“Woman, just let me do this, will you?”

Hermione gasped as she gave him a scandalized look. “You did not just call me woman!”

He grinned. “'Fraid so love.”

“Well I never!-”

“So I'll pick you up at eight then.”

She sighed, “Fine.”

--

“Please don't tell me that this is where you take all of your dates?” she begged with a
distinct undertone of distaste when the maitre d' of the muggle establishment immediately
recognized Harry upon their entrance before leading them to *Harry's* table.

Harry chuckled, placing her hand on the small of her back as the two followed the maitre d'.
“I highly doubt that a place that's famous for it's ice cream, that's also the size of
your head, is the type of restaurant that my dates would ever be particularly interested in going
to,” he assured her as he pulled out her chair for her when they arrived at their place in a
secluded corner of the restaurant.

Hermione visibly brightened at the mention of ice cream, gleefully asking him “ice cream?!”

“I thought you'd enjoy it,” he told her with a shrug.

“You know me far too well, Harry.”

He grinned as he handed her one of the menus on the table. “Very glad to hear it, now pick what
real food you want to eat first seeing as I can't have you spoiling your appetite.”

“Was that supposed to be an imitation of me?” she suspiciously asked him, cocking an eyebrow at
him.

“Admit it Hermione, you were a bit of a mother hen when we were younger.”

She grimaced slightly before letting out a small laugh. “Those were the days.”

“Now here we are old and all we have left is the memories, and soon even those will be
gone.”

She giggled. “What can you do anyway?”

--

“So I had a lot of fun tonight—surprisingly enough,” she told him as he walked her to the door
of her hotel room.

“Why don't you move in with me?” he suddenly asked her as they stood in front of the
door.

She looked at him, sending him a quizzical look. “Pardon me?”

He sighed; he had really hoped to be a bit more suave when he finally made the offer that had
been on the tip of his tongue for so long. “Move in with me, I live in Grimmauld Place and that
manor is far too large for just me—you and I both know that, you mock me for it constantly, so help
me rectify that little dilemma.”

“Harry-”

“Just… think about it Hermione, I doubt we'd have any problems, and it's better than you
staying at a hotel until you can find a place.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I'll think about it.”

“Great, night Granger,” he told her as he kissed her forehead before leaving her standing at the
door—frozen, speechless.

--

**author's note****:** *so sorry I couldn't post this weekend, but between going
out with friends and going through pet stores and animal shelters in search of a dog that my cat
likes (or more specifically—isn't scared of lol. He's beat up a husky before, yet he still
seems to have a fear of any dog other than that breed, and I've had huskies my entire life,
hoping for a change—mainly because I really loved my last one that recently died. Don't you
love the irony of life? lol)*

-->



16. finding home
----------------



**Chapter XVI:** **finding home**

--

*“Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”*

*-George Bernard Shaw*

--

“So… I was thinking,” he suddenly heard a voice announce; drawing his attention from the
research he had been so focused on.

“Hermione, what are you doing here?”

“Am I not welcome?” she asked, raising an accusing eyebrow.

“No, it's not that, but—well, what *are* you doing here?”

“Didn't I just tell you `I was thinking?' honestly, Harry, you're an Auror now, you
have to learn to pay more attention to the little things—*details*,” she rolled her eyes as
she took a seat across from him.

He smirked slightly. “So what were you thinking about?”

“I don't want to impose,” she blurted out seriously, leaving behind her teasing tone that
their conversation had just had as she confessed.

“What are you—*oh*, bloody hell, Hermione! Why are you so stubborn? It's Grimmauld
Place for Christ's sake, the manor's far too large for just me; I told you I could use the
company anyway.”

“But-”

“You shouldn't be in a hotel, Hermione, I get that you needed to stay there before because
you didn't want to get settled and get too attached so I let it go, but-”

Hermione stiffened, interrupting him to ask “how'd you know that?”

A smile tugged on his lips slightly. “We're best mates for a reason, and that's also why
you're staying with me, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but *only* until I find my own place.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “I'll settle for that.”

“Good,” she nodded, “because that's my final offer.”

“it's over, Granger, I won, don't try to make it seem as if you're in control—let me
at least revel in one of the few moments in which I beat you.”

Hermione scoffed as she got up from the chair. “One thing that you're going to have to learn
about me, Harry, is that I'm always right,” she told him with a wink. “I'll leave you to
your work, I have some of my own to take care of anyway—oh, and nice office you have here…”

--

“I can't believe that this is all you have,” Harry exclaimed as the he helped Hermione
settle into one of the rooms at Grimmauld Place that evening.

“Well what more was I supposed to have, I didn't exactly go partying every night. My basic
attire for work everyday consisted of just some jeans and a t-shirt, I told you I have to go
shopping.”

“Just don't expect me to help you with that,” he told her with a grin as he took a seat on
the bed, watching her place all of her clothes into the drawers.

“Well I am going to need someone to carry the bags,” she tactfully told him, back strategically
turned to him as she spoke so that he wouldn't see her grin.

“Not happening.”

“You know, it's nice how naïve you can be sometimes, Harry,” she told him with a smile as
she turned around to face him.

“And why do you say that?” he suspiciously asked her.

“Because, let's be serious, you and Ron are far too scared of me to ever deny me
anything.”

“Well—okay, I'll admit that I am a bit terrified of you at times, especially given all of
those times you've hexed us-”

“Oi, you deserved it!”

“Never denied it, love,” he told her with a charming smile. “But it doesn't change the fact
that you've always been a bit violent.”

“So then how about you protect yourself by going shopping with me?”

He let out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “It's just clothes,
right?”

“Well…”

“Hermione!”

“So I may want to pick up a few books,” she sheepishly admitted.

“The Ron definition of a few or a library full version of `a few'?”

She merely smiled at him. “I think we should leave tomorrow at about ten so we can get that all
done and then work on Ron and Luna's parties,” she told him before leaving the room.

“Hermione, you didn't answer my question!” he, pointlessly and rather desperately, called
after her.

--

**author's note****: so this chap was mainly banter, but next one should be a lot of fun
to write…**

**anyway, please review, and wish me luck (off to another kennel I found in my seemingly never
ending search for a dog my cat isn't scared of… or won't beat up…)**

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17. finding that some things never change
-----------------------------------------



**Chapter XVII: finding that some things never change**

--

*“Sometimes I find it's easy to be myself, sometimes I find it's better to be someone
else.”*

-*Anonymous*

--

“Hum,” she smiled as she looked at one of the books she was putting away on the newly purchased,
huge, bookcase she had bought for her room at Grimmauld Place. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yeah?” he asked distractedly as he tried arranging the books alphabetically on the floor so
Hermione could put them away—all the while trying to dispel the annoying voice in his head that was
constantly repeating the distinct sound of a whip crackling, constantly mocking him, much to his
distaste.

“Did you buy this?” she asked him, pulling out a copy of *Being Nice for Dummies*.

He smirked as he got up and took the book from her, leafing through its pages as he spoke. “Well
I thought you could do with a lesson in it given that you dragged me through five different book
stores and had me carrying all of them-”

“Oh don't be such a baby, it wasn't that much!”

“I had to come back to drop the books off after each visit, have you any idea how annoying that
was?”

She rolled her eyes, playfully nudging him. “It's all part of being nice, Harry!”

He chuckled. “Using my words against me now are we, Granger?”

“It's all part of my charm, how I can twist things against you.”

“You call it charm; others call it evil genius behind the pretty veneer.”

“Aw, you think I'm pretty,” she grinned.

“You are pretty irresistible Granger,” he told her with a flirtatious wink before picking a book
off of the floor and telling her “you may want to give this one a look through as well, by the
way.”

She let out an amused scoff upon reading the title, *The Beauty of Keeping Your Mouth
Shut*, just as she was about to retort she raised her head to see that Harry had already left
the room—surely protecting himself from any serious bodily harm.

--

“So how'd the meeting with Franklin go?” Ron asked Hermione, arm slung around her shoulders
as they walked slightly ahead of Luna and Harry, as he led her towards the church that he and Luna
were considering holding the wedding at.

“He's a prick,” Hermione muttered, scrunching her face in distinct distaste.

Ron grinned. “He asked you out, didn't he?”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she pouted slightly as she asked “how'd you know?”

“Well Franklin has quite the reputation, and you've been looking rather attractive as of
late… you know, not to say that you weren't before, the humanitarian look just does you well,
is all,” he told her with a suggestive, over-exaggerated wink, as he was desperate for some
salvation after surely digging himself into a hole with that tirade.

“Oi, what are you two talking about?” Harry asked as he and Luna caught up to the pair.

“Yeah, we feel rather left out, you two acting all secretive like that about something can't
be good for us,” Luna grinned.

“Hermione here was just telling me about how Franklin—you know Jake, that healer that
transferred to St. Mungo's from Switzerland—well he asked her out,” Ron announced with a jovial
grin, totally oblivious as to what a grave error he had just made.

Harry's smile faltered for a second, but Hermione, who had her head timidly buried in
Ron's neck because of all the attention that was on her, failed to see it.

“So what did you say?” Luna asked curiously.

“Well no, of course. I mean the man is a bloody man whore, shags every girl in sight. How the
hell am I expected to date *that*? u\Unlike some, I have a *very* rational fear of
STI's!” she exclaimed, totally oblivious to how, while she was ranting, Harry had stopped dead
in his tracks, Luna had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, or the
silent—*pleading*—looks Ron was giving her to just shut up already. “Honestly, he's the
scum of the earth!”

Ron nudged her, mumbling the words “verbal diarrhea” in her ear, praying that she would finally
get the message through her thick head.

Hermione stopped in shock, eyes widening as she realized just what she had said. She turned
around immediately, looking at Harry with worried eyes as she desperately, pleadingly said “oh my
God, Harry, I'm so sorry! That did not come off as I had intended it to!”

He eyed her warily, his eyes betraying him, however, as they softened at her words. “You sure
about that?”

“I don't think that you're the scum of the earth, at least,” she admitted with a shy
smile as she bit her lip nervously.

He rolled his eyes slightly. “You're far too charming for your own good, Granger, you know
that?”

She smiled brightly at him before pulling him into a tight embrace. “Thank you!”

“Bloody hell this argument was no where *near* amusing enough to watch to justify the fact
that we're late for the meeting with the priest!” Ron exclaimed, grabbing Hermione's arm,
tearing her from Harry, as he hurriedly walked towards the church that was two blocks away. All the
while he was muttering, in vexation, “You take Harry, love, seems like I can only trust you!”

Harry chuckled slightly as he watched Ron practically run towards their destination. “And he
claims not to be that into the wedding preparations.”

Luna smiled as she took Harry's extended arm and followed the pair. “Is it really as okay as
you said it was?”

“It hurts… but you have to respect the fact that she's honest, *right*?”

She smiled at him knowingly. “You sure that's it?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyeing her curiously all the while. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I know how much it can hurt when something like that comes from someone that you're
in love with,” she told him with a meaningful look before tearing her arm from his and speeding
after Ron who was opening the door to the church.

Harry, however, was left rooted in his place, in shock, for the second time that day.

--

**author's note****: so I was planning on having this up yesterday, but I have a**
**plausible** **excuse (my crazy cat)!**

**So here's the story.**

**Like all cats mine is not one for sharing things, so when I joined him on sitting on the
balcony** **(I love to sit on that wall) anyway, luckily (just not for him), he's one of the
few cats that won't fight you for a spot, but will; just leave—and all or nothing deal with
him, luckily he takes the nothing rather than forcing me into it. so he decided to get off the
wall, but sadly, rather than jumping off of it and into the balcony he accidentally jumped off of
the balcony (and I have no idea how he mistook that for the apartment). So, basically, he fell of a
fifth floor balcony—lucky me, however, has a park behind the building and since cats are amazing
and always land on their feet, he got off Scott free. I was just in such a state of shock and still
trying to figure out if he was okay or not that posting totally escaped me.**

**OMG, just realized, some of you seem to be rather amused by my stories about my cat choosing
a dog so here's the latest update, but I almost found a dog on Tuesday—simply because I knew my
cat would hate him. Sadly, however, when my cat entered the cage (sneaky little fellow) he went to
sniff the dog's butt (and here I thought only dogs do that) and somehow the dog ended up almost
sitting on my cat. It was hilarious because the worker and I only got him off last second (and this
was a HUGE dog—I was at an animal rescue center). My cat was shaking for an hour, it was so
hilarious!**

**Kind of scary when I could swear that he was glaring at me though (but that could also be
because it was bright out and he has blue eyes… and well you know how light colored eyes react to
strong lights…)**

**Anyway, that's it, so sorry for boring you, but I found those stories incredibly amusing
(feel free to disagree lol)**

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18. finding solace
------------------



**Chapter XVIII: finding** **solace**

--

**“Love is like energy. It can never be created nor destroyed...it is just always there. You
just have to realize that fact and you have to learn that as soon as you stopped loving him in the
way you did that love left to somewhere else. Now all you have to do is find out where that love
went. That love went to whoever the next person in your life will be. That next person could be one
of your friends or someone you might dislike; you just have to find that out.”**

**-Ian Philpot**

--

“Harry?” he heard a quiet, almost timid, voice call out to him.

“Hermione? What are you doing in here?” he asked, sitting up in his bed in alarm.

“Can I stay with you tonight? Thunderstorms aren't really my forte,” she informed him as she
stood awkwardly before the bed, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

He nodded his head, regardless of the fact that she couldn't really see much more than the
general outline of his body in the dark of the room. “Come on in, love.”

“Thank you,” she cheerfully chirped as she hoped into his bad, quickly getting under the covers
and hugging him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure there's no ulterior motive here?”

She laughed lightly. “When I was traveling around Africa from clinic to clinic there was one
thing that never changed, the thunderstorms,” she quietly admitted. “They weren't that often,
but when they came… it was horrible. The kids were already so sick—most already in a state of
hysteria, paranoia, and deliria… When it rained like this they were so scared, so afraid of what it
could be and the symptoms of their illnesses didn't help ease their minds much. It was terrible
to watch, Harry, broke my heart, especially when I realized that there was nothing I could do about
it…” her voice died out as she brought herself closer to him, tightening her hold on him.

They laid in silence, Harry soothingly rubbing circles in her arm in hopes of calming her
nerves, and Hermione staring out the large window in his bedroom, watching the sky crackle with
exceptional fervor.

“I'm proud of you, you know that, right?”

He could feel the smile on her face as she rested her head on his chest, merely saying a thank
you in response, but her body considerably relaxed at hearing that confession.

--

“So how long have you had a thing for Hermione?” Ron asked as the two sat in the green
leprechaun, each cradling a butterbeer float—an invention courtesy of Hermione, one that, albeit
rather disgusting, had ice cream in it and had become a quick favorite among the trio.

Harry's head, which had been resting on the table after a particularly strenuous day at
work, shot up in surprise. “How'd you find out?”

“Come on mate, it's pretty obvious.”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Okay so it was obvious *after* Luna pointed it out to me,” Ron snappishly admitted, rather
insulted by the fact that it was apparently so obvious. He rolled his eyes as he muttered something
under his breath, but given his foul mood to have been found out Harry highly doubted that he
really wanted to know what it was that Ron had to say given the red head's infamous potty
mouth.

Harry chuckled. “When did she tell you anyway?”

“A week ago, so that leaves a question that begs to be answered: how long have you felt that way
about her and why the *bloody* hell didn't you tell me earlier?”

“I take it we're going for the blunt approach this evening then,” Harry dryly commented.

“Well it seems to be what's lacking in our friendship as of late,” Ron quipped.

“Two years and counting—that's how long I've been in love with her.”

Ron's eyes widened at the admission. “Bloody hell.”

Harry nodded solemnly. “Yep.”

“So, just to clear things up, why haven't you told the person that's `supposedly'
your best mate?”

Harry shrugged. “It was weird, I mean with you… you've dated her. I wasn't sure if I
could take having to get advice on her from an ex of hers… that's just *too* weird,
I've already dated your sister… don't want things to become even more incestuous than they
already appear to be.”

Ron cracked a smile despite himself at hearing that rather unorthodox explanation. “Okay,
I'll give you that one given that I can tend to be a bit importunate when I choose to say
certain things. But, seriously, from now on talk to me—I'll even promise not to make any
comments on Hermione and my experience dating her, yeah?”

“Get me another one of these and you're on,” Harry told him with a grin.

“Oi, there you are, we've been looking everywhere for you two,” Fred exclaimed as he walked
into the pub with George, Luna, and Hermione—all of whom had been working on helping Luna find the
perfect wedding gift for Ron, a fact that she had found herself unable to hide from him.

“We've only gone to two pubs in search of them,” Hermione laughed, defending her best mates
as she seated herself by Harry. “Hello Ron,” she greeted him as he returned with a drink for Harry
and himself.

“Hello loves,” he smiled at the pair, ignoring his brothers, as he kissed Luna and pecked
Hermione on the cheek before pulling his fiancée onto his lap.

“Bloody hell, what are we, invisible?” Fred asked George.

“I think so, it seems that the women have struck again and stolen our mate from us,” George
responded with a sympathetic nod.

“I'm your mate?” Ron asked excitedly.

“We were referring to Harry,” Fred told him in a deadpanned voice.

Hermione, who had just stolen Harry's drink and was sipping it, choked on the drink as she
laughed.

“Hey, when did you find time to steal my drink in the short time that Ron returned with it?”
Harry asked, making a move to retrieve his drink only to have his attempt thwarted by Hermione, who
pulled it back immediately.

“You were going to offer it to me anyway,” she informed him with a smile.

“Since when?”

“Since I pray you have some sense of chivalry,” she teased him.

Harry, however, didn't say anything in response, merely pushed the forgotten drink towards
her.

Fred groaned. “Now *t**hat's* pathetic.”

George nodded in agreement. “He's whipped.”

“Well who wouldn't be scared of Hermione?” Ron interrupted, sending a conspicuous wink
towards Harry after asking his brothers.

Hermione, by some divine miracle that was totally beyond him, failed to notice what was going on
as she and Luna were entranced by the dresses in the latest bridal magazine Luna had purchased.

At seeing who Harry's frightened eyes were trained on Hermione, Fred turned to Ron.
“Seriously, little brother, you may want to consider trying to be a bit more inconspicuous as you
truly suck at this.”

--

**author's note****: not quite sure how well I pulled this chap off, but** **I**
**needed it as a transitional so I'll leave it be**

**anyway, please review!**

**p.s. the dog front: my cat is screwy. enough said.**

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19. finding the infamous Gryffindor courage
-------------------------------------------



**Chapter IXX: finding the infamous Gryffindor courage**

--

**“You won't ever be happier...until you find that special place where you
belong...”**

*-Anonymous*

--

“I like this,” Hermione shyly admitted as they sat on the balcony connected to the library,
slowly drinking their coffees and eating their breakfasts.

Harry nodded mutely, staring out onto the garden behind the manor.

“What's with you, you're never this quiet… well, okay, that's not true, but
you're still not one for meditation in the morning, not when you're fully awake and gearing
up to start a new day,” Hermione rambled on as she tore off a piece of her croissant and smeared
Nutella on it before popping the piece into her mouth.

He let out a small, breathy laugh. “Just thinking.”

“About the meaning of life?” she teased him with a grin.

He nodded. “Something along those lines.”

“Any answers on that front?”

He shook his head, sadly. “None as of yet, I'm afraid.”

“*Ah*,” she said.

“Yeah…” he sighed.

They sat in silence for a while, each left to their own thoughts—or forced to since they had
nothing better to do, as was Hermione's case—and enjoying the novelty behind the unusually
perfect weather that day.

“What's wrong, Harry?” she asked, effectively ending the interlude.

He shrugged, much to her annoyance. “Nothing.”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing as she sent him a perplexed look. He
could almost see the wheels in her head turning as she desperately tried to analyze him—rationalize
his actions and unusual behavior. “What is it Harry?… come on, *please*, talk to me.”

He turned to look at her. “Nine months ago today I made a promise to myself… I told myself
I'd have her.”

He could see she wanted to say something, but she wouldn't—she respected him enough to let
him do it at his own pace.

“I'm not getting anywhere in that respect, to tell you the truth,” he told her before
turning his face from her, breaking away from her.

“Who is she, Harry?”

He let out a deep sigh. “You have Nutella on the corner of your lip,” he told her in a strained
voice that she was totally oblivious to as she quickly wiped off the chocolate from her face before
licking it off her finger. And as he got up, leaving her alone on the balcony, he realized that—for
the life of him—he couldn't deicide whether it was a blessing or a curse that she was so
ignorant to her effect on him.

--

“I'm sorry about this morning,” Harry announced as he took a seat by Hermione on the couch
where she was getting her daily fix of celebrity news—a dirty little secret love affair of hers
that he'd only recently discovered.

She smiled as she turned the TV on mute. “It's okay, I understand, I *really* do.”

“I was hoping I could make it up to you-”

“Oh, Harry, you don't need to. *Really*, you don't,” she told him earnestly as she
squeezed his arm lightly to assure him of the fact.

He grinned. “That doesn't matter; all that does is that I want to.”

“So when will this illicit little date of ours be taking place then?”

“Illicit?”

“Well honestly, Harry, don't you think at all? If we're leaving Ron out of it I doubt we
should tell him, you know how jealous he gets,” she told him with a teasing tone as she sent him a
conspiratorial wink.

He chuckled. “Of course, how could I be so blind?—so I think I'll pick you up at your
bedroom door tomorrow at eight.”

“Well then see you in front of my door then, but right now, let's learn about Patrick Swayze
and that cancer of his,” she told him with a smile as she turned the TV's volume up as she
snuggled into Harry's chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck as she watched the
program.

--

**author's note****:** *so between all of the papers I've had to write
lately—including one particularly grueling literary analysis**,* *in French**,*
*on* *Huis Clos* *that* *was about 15 pages**… and, really, how many times
can* *you read about hell?**—I honestly haven't even tried writing a new chap because
I was just so stressed and my attention span had diminished into a pathetic one of a five year old
lol.*

*Anyway, so sorry fro the wait, but hopefully this made up for it*

*We're finally making way, please don't kill me for having it take so long, I know
it's annoying, but I really couldn't imagine it happening any other way as I don't want
to rush it.*

*Please review!*

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20. finding God
---------------



**Chapter XX: finding God**

--

*“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in a love in a quite
absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect
everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your
evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and
what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide
everything.”*

*-Pedro Arrupe*

--

“I just can't believe that the wedding is a mere week away, it makes it all the more real!”
Hermione gleefully told him as the two sat, eating their dinner, in the traditional Greek
restaurant Harry had chosen for their “date”.

“Yeah,” he said with a nervous laugh, his hands shaking slightly as he kept them under the table
as he impatiently waited for the food so he could focus his attention on anything other than
her.

“Harry, are you okay?” she asked him worriedly as she watched him take a large gulp of his fire
whiskey, his third completed drink in the past half hour—a fact that she found extremely
unsettling. “You've been drinking like a fish and you seriously look like you're about to
drop that glass or something—what's wrong with you? Why are you so on edge this evening?”

Harry silently cursed his abnormal lack of charisma and allure that evening. It was supposed to
be the night, *his* night, but he seemed to be acting like some blubbering fool who had no
sense of charm or any appeal whatsoever—bloody hell, he felt like that scrawny little twerp who had
made his first kiss cry.

*Fuck*.

The worst part, however, was that it wasn't just any girl. He actually did care—which,
ironically enough, was also why he seemingly lacked any sense of coordination or `that “je ne sais
quoi,” and all that other shit that the birds seemed to go crazy for.

He wanted her—he *needed* her, and, most importantly of all, if he screwed it up that
evening he'd officially be out of chances. She'd find a real knight in shining armor and
finally realize that he was just a poser who only ever achieved as much as he had because of
her.

He just couldn't—*wouldn't* imagine life without that annoying huffy voice that
constantly reprimanded him, supported him, gave him hope. He had to be the one to have it—that
studious girl that he was sure had a wild streak behind the good girl image. The loyal, the smarmy,
the sometimes bitchy girl—he just had to have her.

The only question was how the bloody hell he'd go about actually achieving that illusive
goal of his.

“I think you and I should shag!” he exclaimed suddenly, causing Hermione to choke on her drink
slightly—and he silently thanked God that he hadn't done the inevitable, by blurting out his
feelings, while she was eating because than he'd be stuck with the added dilemma of having to
do the Heimlich maneuver.

She gaped at him, as she did that weird squinty thing with her eyes that she did whenever she
was particularly confused. “Pardon?”

“I—well… I mean… I don't *just* want to shag you. I'd like there to be the whole
deep and emotionally involved relationship aspect… the shagging is just a very nice added bonus-”
he rambled on nervously, silently cursing the fact that God seemed to hate him or something if he
was so intent on ruining everything for Harry. Couldn't he for once just be a nice and
understanding bloke and give him a little leeway when confronting the girl he loved?

“Um, where did this suddenly come from, anyway?”

“Well… it came about nine months ago really. Nine months and one day to be exact,” he told her
with a decisive nod.

Comprehension dawned upon her as her eyes widened in shock. “I—I'm that girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean *wow*.”

He chuckled lightly. “Seems as if I'm not the only one that seems to be having trouble
finding the right words tonight.”

“You know, Harry, I mean—I never really considered that…”

“Oh?” he asked as he slowly started to grip onto the table leg, anything to take his growing
frustration out on.

“No… I mean… well I don't really know what I mean, to tell you the truth. But—well it's
like this, when we were younger I did have a bit of a crush on you, nothing big just one of those
girly fantasies about the sexy bloke behind that whole Boy-Who-Lived veneer-”

He laughed.

“Oi, don't mock, I'm being very serious right now. Anyway, I just—after that, I realized
just how much your friendship meant to me. I… I don't know what I feel for you Harry, I
can't because I never allowed myself to see you in any sense than a platonic one,” she
sheepishly admitted.

His face was soon marred by a dejected look of hopelessness. “Oh.”

“Harry… this is all—well it's just so unexpected, I mean—you and me… well I never thought
that such a thing could exist.”

“I got the point the first time you said it Hermione,” he told her through gritted teeth. It
wasn't even that he was angry at her, but more so at himself. Despite all of the talk and
everything about how he was worried about what her reaction to his admission would be, he'd
never really considered that she might say no. after all, no girl before her had.

But, then again, that was also where his fatal error lay. She wasn't like those girls, she
was so much more—that was, after all, what attracted him to her—he just never thought that that
fact might screw him over in the long run.

“No, let me finish, *please*.”

He winced slightly at hearing that word, he never could say no to her. *Damn*.

“I'm not that girl—I'm no Ginny, instead I'm a bookworm who loves to spend her
evening watching a good movie rather than going out and partying, I really only ever want to go to
a good party once a week, anymore than that is just a waste of time for me. I'm not like those
other girls you dated either—I actually do have a fear of STI's, no matter how inane of a fear
it may be-”

“I was tested,” he meekly admitted with a sheepish grin, *anything* to divert attention
from his confession.

“Pardon?” she asked, genuinely surprised by the announcement.

“After that whole healer man-whore ordeal I realized you may have had a point on that count and
got tested. Hate to admit it, but it kind of shocked me when they told me I *hadn't*
contracted anything…”

“Oh.”

He nodded mutely.

“But—well that doesn't change anything Harry, it can't. I mean look at the girls you
date-”

“And look at how that ended,” he interjected. “Listen, Hermione, I've made my mistakes, I
realize that, but don't doubt my feelings like this. Stop trying to reason it all, make it
sound as if it's impossible because I promise you that they're anything *but* fake.
I've loved you for so long now, I wanted you—*needed* you, but I let you go because I knew
you deserved better. But, Hermione, I was always a selfish prat and I just—I needed to at least try
or I'd never forgive myself. I couldn't just let you slip through my fingers again,” he
earnestly told her.

“You were right when you said you're not them—in fact, you're so much more… it's
like what you said about Ron being a step, well they were mine. Admittedly, not steps to be
particularly proud of,” he sheepishly admitted. “But necessary nonetheless. It all made me
appreciate you more, realize how empty and worthless it all was without you by my side.”

When he finished his tirade he let it be, he didn't look at her but focused his attention on
the waiters that were running through the restaurant, listening to the strong accents of the warm
Greek family that ran the small, home-style restaurant. He let her have her space because he knew
her. He knew how she needed to analyze thing because of her need to feel safe, a deep rooted one
from her awkward entrance into the wizarding world—a realm she knew nothing about. It was a habit
that lasted and prevailed throughout the years, and if it had yet to let her down he was all for
giving her the luxury of that much needed time for reflection.

“I honestly don't know if it's a good idea,” she finally admitted in a weak voice.

He nodded, not so much because he understood—no, he was too stubborn for that—but more so
because he didn't trust himself to speak, he didn't want to further embarrass himself by
his voice cracking or something under the pressure of it all. He was too proud to let that happen
to him as well.

“But…well, I think maybe I'd like to give it a try regardless,” she admitted, biting on her
lip nervously as she made the admission.

“Really?” he squeaked slightly—officially deciding that God was drunk that day if he was finally
helping him out for once.

She shyly nodded as a blush spread throughout her face. “Yeah… I think—I mean, I don't know
what'll happen, or if we'll even work, but I can see it—I can see it being something good.
You and I, we always clicked…”

“You're sure?” he asked her suspiciously, slowly loosening his grip on the table leg to
place it atop of hers that was resting in the middle of the table.

She smiled. “Yeah… I think that, for once, you may have realized something good before me—long
before I ever came to the realization.”

--

**author's note****: I hope that this made up for the long wait for them to finally get
together, I know that I certainly had fun writing this chap lol.**

**Anyway, please R&R!**

-->



21. finding apprehension
------------------------



**C****hapter XXI: finding apprehension**

--

*“To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is
cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence
one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.”*

*-Anna Louise Strong*

--

“So Lavender thought she was pregnant again, and I have to tell you, regardless of how many
times I've done it, waiting those two minutes for the pregnancy test results are the worst
thing ever,” Neville announced as he, Ron, and Harry sat at the three broomsticks, enjoying a drink
between Neville's classes.

“How does that always happen to you two? It feels like every other week you repeat the same
story, and the sad part is it's a different instance that you're referring to every time,”
Ron asked incredulously.

“We're in a rush and forget to take certain precautions,” Neville responded with a
shrug.

Harry snorted. “You make it sound like you're fixing a carburetor or something.”

Ron chuckled, choking slightly on the drink that he had, inopportunely, taken a sip from as
Harry made his comment.

“You don't even know what a bloody car is, much less a carburetor,” Neville said.

“Doesn't mean I didn't understand the gist of the joke—and how the hell do you know what
it is?” Ron defended.

“I used to date the muggle studies professor a while back and, for some reason that's
totally beyond me, her idea of pillow talk was lecturing me—I learned far more about muggles than
should ever be allowed in the whole post-sex euphoria,” he admitted with a grimace.

Harry winced. “Bloody hell, that's worse than that time I dated the chit that liked to coo
and talk to me as if I were an infant or something every time we shagged**.”**

Ron laughed. “Sorry mates, but I don't have any bad sex stories.”

“No, you just leave the girls with bad memories,” Neville teased him with a grin.

“Oi, I doubt that Luna *or* Hermione *or*-”

“Please don't remind me of that,” Harry interrupted him as his face was quickly marred by a
wince at the thought of Ron and Hermione… *shagging*.

“It's pathetic really; it took me ages to get her to go out with me when we gave it a go
back at Hogwarts. And the bloody chit finally learns to relax some and let those inhibitions of
hers down when *you* get her. I was the one stuck with her when she was an annoying cow!
How's that for poetic irony?” Ron whined.

“Do you even know what poetic irony is?” Neville asked him.

“No, not really—never got it, must be a muggle thing. But Hermione always uses it in things like
this so I figured why not give it a go.”

“Well her taste in men has obviously improved, at least that much can be said for her,” Neville
nodded, grinning as he watched Ron turn an ungodly shade of red.

“Oi!”

“Well there must be a reason why she wasn't so quick to say yes to you!”

“Well it could just mean she respects my friendship more,” Ron haughtily proposed.

Harry stiffened.

Neville's eyes widened after hearing Ron's unsurprisingly tactless retort. “Or it could
just mean that she was trying to avoid being with you,” he muttered.

He turned to Harry, noting how regardless of the forced smile that may have been on his face his
grip on his glass betrayed whatever cool persona he was trying to pull off—the white knuckles
showing just how tense he really was. “I swear to God, if you believe what that prat just said then
you're an even bigger idiot than him—and, trust me, it's pretty hard to surpass that level
of idiocy considering that he seems to have his foot permanently implanted in that monstrous mouth
of his.”

“OI!”

Harry couldn't help but a crack a genuine smile at that comment, but while his grip on the
drink did loosen, his back remained stiff as the comment replayed in his mind. Trepidation
remaining in the recesses of his mind even though he tried to laugh it off, put it off as just
another one of Ron's thoughtless comments—which, in reality, he knew it was. But the
question—well it was a tempting one nevertheless.

And given God's apparent hatred for him, it was very possible this was his way of making up
for having been drunk enough to grant him Hermione the night before…

--

“You and I need to talk,” he announced as he entered the library where he knew she would be
reading another Christopher Buckley novel—a new guilty pleasure of hers that she had decided to
indulge in since she had nothing to do for the wedding that day. Harry, personally, was just
relieved that it wasn't some romance novel that he'd then be forced to listen to a recount
of.

“Well hello to you too,” she sarcastically quipped as she moved her legs off of the couch,
silently inviting him to join her on it.

He nervously ran a hand through his hair as he took a seat. Taking a deep breath to calm his
nerves her set his gaze ahead of him, watching the balcony instead of her in a desperate attempt to
holds onto whatever little resolve he had. “I need you to know that *this*—what we talked
about last night, you and me, I'm serious about that, it's not some sort of a joke for
me.”

She nodded slowly, unsure as to what to say—feeling particularly unhinged at seeing how adamant
he was about not facing her.

“This isn't just another fling for me Hermione, this is real. I want to work for this, I
want to have to put up with all of your annoying shite and nagging, I want you to see me as more
than just your best mate and love me for that—in *that* way,” he told her as he turned to face
her, but found that she too was staring out the window.

Neither knew what to say after that, or even if they really should. It was awkward,
uncomfortable, and everything that they had every hoped to avoid when together—everything that they
had worked toward conquering since she had returned.

Finally she interrupted the silence by a long overdue sigh. “I—it's hard you know… figuring
out if I love you or am *in* love with you—it's a difficult thing to differentiate. And,
honestly, I don't know whether it will work out or not between us,” she admitted slowly,
keeping her eyes trained on the book as she fiddled with the cover nervously.

*Finally* she looked up at him. “But I *do* know that no matter what happens our
friendship is strong enough to persevere—withstand anything that might come its way. And… well I
don't know… I just—all I know is that, you and I, we've always had something special,
something amazing, something *worth* exploring. I guess you don't choose who you want to
be with… it just happens-”

He snorted, muttering “can't deny that one.”

She smiled, taking, what Harry assumed to be, at least, uncharacteristic initiative by crawling
across the couch so that she was sitting right before him rather than on the opposite side of the
couch. “I do think, however, that this has been a long time coming.”

He grinned as he pulled her onto his lap. “How much time did you spend analyzing it all to come
to that conclusion?”

“Don't over analyze things so much, just live in the moment—don't question it all,” she
told him with a saucy wink as she leaned down and did something that he never thought he'd have
the opportunity to do—much less have her initiate it.

She kissed him—well, more like snogged, and he couldn't deny that he *thoroughly*
enjoyed it.

--

**author's** **note****: so I was telling my best friend about the whole pet therapy
incident as we were walking through the pet store and as luck would have it, or God just seems
to** **really** **hate me, my cat—who I let walk on his own as he's too scared to go more
than 5 ft. away from me—chose that moment to run into this glass separator that was between him and
the snakes (which, btw, is the only animal he isn't scared of, but, in fact, is quite enamored
by them)… needless to say my best friend now agrees with me and refers to my cat as `the stupid
one'**

**** **yeah****.**

**anyway, I then got home to some amazing reviews that totally made up for it—until my cat
micko (Croatian, better off trying not to pronounce it btw) ran into a chair after sliding across
the floor—he likes to do that since it's waxed parquet**

**So how about some lovely reviews to assure me that not all aspects of my life are horrible
pathetic and ridiculous ;) lol**

**P.S. I hate my summary and, ironically enough, I suck at writing summaries, so if anyone has
any summary ideas I'm all ears!!!**

-->



22. finding the inner stag
--------------------------



**I****Chapter XXII:** **finding the inner stag**

--

**“Why is it, when your looking for that someone, you find no one, but, once you find it, a lot
more choices start showing up? But, if you leave that first love, then, they all start drifting
away? Is that love's way of testing your true feelings or to”**

**-Anonymous**

--

“So tonight's the big night—stag and hen party, the single event that will make all the work
we've had to put into this wedding worth it,” Hermione commented as she and Harry sat at the
kitchen table eating their breakfasts, each reading their sections of the prophet.

Harry grinned as he raised his eyes from the paper that he had been so focused on and rested
them on her. “Any chance you'll finally tell me where the hell you're holding that saucy
little fest of yours that Luna turns bright red at whenever mentioned?”

She smiled widely as she motioned for him to lean in closer. When he complied, however, she
merely whispered “not a chance” in his ear.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before getting up and letting out a laugh that continued
as she left the kitchen and climbed up the stairs to her room to change for work.

--

“Wait, there aren't any strippers here,” pouted a more than slightly disappointed Ron as the
group walked into the hotel lobby where the stag party was being held.

Harry winced, he had honestly been hoping that Ron wouldn't notice—sadly, however, it seemed
as if he wasn't as oblivious in regards to all things women, as Harry had prayed. Figures that
that'd be the one time that the quality that his best mate was known for would somehow
miraculously fail him.

“*Well*…”

“Bloody hell mate!” Dean groaned when he noticed the guilty look on Harry's face.

“Oi, I couldn't help it, Hermione made me promise that if we didn't have any female
strippers here than they wouldn't have any male ones. I was trying to help you out mate. Do you
really want some bloke in a thong shaking his arse in your fiancée's face?”

“What are we doing?” Ron grumbled, slightly put out. But it was the lack of further whining that
told Harry that Ron did, in all actuality, prefer losing the slags and making sure that the missus
didn't come in contact with any over having a classic stag party.

“Well I rented out an entire section of the high rollers casino.”

“Booze and betting, I do believe that those are two of my favorite things,” Seamus grinned,
throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder as Harry led them to the area where the stag party
was.

“You'll be learning a very important lesson tonight mate,” Fred told him.

“And what's that?” Harry asked him with a quizzical look.

“Why to never bring an Irishman to an open bar, of course,” George told him, rolling his eyes at
Harry's stupidity as he threw an arm around him, letting Harry lead him to the tables.

--

“So how did Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Fred manage to pass out in the salon?” Hermione asked
with a yawn as she walked into the kitchen only be met with the sight of Ron, who laying on the
kitchen's island, Fred, who was well on his way to falling asleep at the table, and Harry, who
was prepping some breakfast for himself.

“Kind of a late morning for you, love, isn't it?” Harry asked her with a grin as he moved to
embrace her.

Hermione, however, thwarted whatever pathetic attempts on his part by pushing past him to get to
the coffee machine. As she prepared herself a cup she turned to face Harry, cocking an eyebrow at
him. “Why are they out there?—And, more importantly, why is Seamus almost naked except for that
little birthday cone covering the `little leprechaun'?”

Ron snorted. “Little leprechaun, that's funny. Have to give you points on originality there,
Hermione.”

“Thanks, now one of you better answer the bloody question.”

“There was an open bar,” Harry told her with a shrug.

“That's it, nothing more exciting?” she asked in surprise as she grabbed a croissant off of
Harry's plate.

“Oi, I'd just finished toasting that and putting the nutella on it—have some respect
*woman*! And, wait, what's wrong with my party?”

“Well it doesn't seem terribly original is all.”

“Oh, and you could do much better after banning the use of strippers?” he haughtily asked
her.

“One word: transvestites,” Hermione admitted with a blush, nervously biting her lip, as he
stared at her in disbelief.

“Pardon? I don't think I quite heard you correctly.”

“What?!” Ron asked, suddenly sitting up in a rare state of shock that could only ever bring Ron
out of one of his self-induced comas.

“A mate of mine took me to this club a while ago and the transvestites were more like
entertainers—it's actually pretty cool. Very fun to be with, very colorful people—do have
problems with some of their choices in shoes though… I mean I know that the entire idea of it all
is to be as extravagant as you can be, but, really, one of them are going to break their neck in
those sooner or later… or maybe they already have,” Hermione rambled.

“I thought you promised Harry that there'd be no strippers. Don't you dare tell me you
used those womanly wiles of yours to con him—you know how weak he is with you!” Ron exclaimed.

“Oi!” Harry complained. “I'm right here you know.”

“Did you not hear a word I said, *Ronald*? They're entertainers, not strippers.
Besides, it's not as if they're interested in us or anything. We don't really have all
the necessary equipment to sate them, and, honestly, since when are you such a prude?”

“Since when aren't you?” he retorted.

She shrugged. “It may not exactly by my sort of a thing, but Luna deserves a fun and out there
hen party. I'd like to think that I, at least, achieved that much.”

“There's fun and then there's too much fun,” Ron grumbled.

“There's also bloody genius,” Harry grinned, still chuckling at the memory of Hermione's
extremely periodic and concise analysis of the party she threw.

She grinned as she turned to him. “Glad you think so, so I'd say that this means I won the
bet then…”

“Seems so-”

“Wait, you had a bet going over who would throw the better party?” Ron interrupted in
disbelief.

“Well, if it helps, it was to solve a very important issue,” Harry assured him sympathetically
as he sent a Hermione's way.

“Like what?” he asked with a snort.

“Who gets to decide where we go to dinner for our first date,” Hermione grinned, a slight tint
slowly showing on her face as she made the admission.

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but no sound was emitted when he did. He just stood there, a
finger raised as he prepared himself to make a very important note, but he couldn't find the
words. Finally, he let out a sigh of defeat. “So where will it be then?”

“I'm thinking Greek, I have a craving for some musaka,” she admitted with a grin.

“I know some good places for Greek food,” Ron told her with a grin.

--

**author's note****: so sorry, a ton of projects came up and a whiney best friend who
just get dumped (I swear if I have to watch another Meg Ryan movie after a break up of hers I will
shoot myself—she doesn't even like `when Harry met sally,' ironically enough, the only
movie I like with her… even if there is no reason that a woman as hot as her in that film should
end up with Billy Crystal of all people… but then again that's a whole new set of issues that
really shouldn't be delved into lol.**

**SO SO SO SO SO sorry for the late update, hope you'll find it in your hearts to forgive
me…**

-->



23. finding a cure for screwiness
---------------------------------



**Chapter XXIII:** **finding a cure for screwiness**

--

**“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find
that it is those who, instead of giving much advise, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to
share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.”**

**-Henri Nouwen**

--

“Do you think that there actually is an Uncle George?” Hermione asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well this place is called Uncle George's, but wouldn't it be hilariously ironic if this
Uncle George doesn't actually exist?”

He snorted slightly. “Only you Hermione, only you.”

“Harry James Potter, are you insinuating that there's something wrong with my logic?” she
asked in a shocked tone as she pouted slightly in a desperate attempt to hide the smile that was
tugging at her lips.

“Hey, you're far more logical than Ron and I combined, there's no question of that.
It's merely a matter of where said logic takes you at times…” he told her with a sheepish
grin.

“So I'm inquisitive, what's wrong with that?”

“Well you were called the brightest witch of our age for a reason.”

“Exactly,” she agreed as she took a sip from her wine, all the while smiling as she looked at
him.

“We're being honest, right?”

“I'd like to believe that we always have been.”

“So I can ask you anything I want then?”

“That would depend on what it is and just how revealing it is,” she responded, suspiciously
eyeing him as he nervously run a hand through his hair.

“Do you remember when you were dating Ron?” he asked her.

“Well I was kind of there—you know, actually participating in the relationship, so I should hope
so,” she teased him.

He chuckled softly. “Did you really never think that it could be more than what it was? I mean,
wasn't there ever even a time when you thought it could grow to be something more than just one
of those relationships that you had to experience?” he asked her, his nerves getting the better of
him more and more as he continued with the question, forcing him to avert his gaze from her and
onto the appetizers that were sitting in front of them.

She sighed slightly, but that one small action was enough to assure him of the fact that she had
been expecting that question to come up at one point or another. “I kind of hoped that it would
be—I mean it would have make life a lot easier given that I wouldn't have to ever explain this
innate bond that I've always had with you two given that he was a part of it,” she admitted
with a nervous laugh. “But as much as I would have liked to delude myself about it… I knew; it just
didn't feel right, really. It didn't feel like it ever could be more, but I did love the
time that we had… even if it was a bit turbulent.”


He raised his head, looking up at her with almost pleading eyes as he asked “do you think it's
the same for us?”

The surprise on her face was obvious, she had never been very good at hiding things—it was part
of what he adored about her, he could always count on her honesty, her ability to call him an arse
and a narcissistic pillock whenever everyone else was too scared to. She wasn't fooled by the
visage, veneer of the “boy who lived” persona. She saw *him*—warts, boils, and all, and yet
she still stood by him.

“I… well I don't really know to tell you the truth. I just—all I know is that it's
different than with Ron, it doesn't feel totally hopeless, temporary, and I like that,” she
admitted with a slight blush.

“I'm in it, Hermione, totally in it—for the long haul and all that other cliché shite.”

She laughed. “How I do adore your ability to be utterly romantic while cursing.”

“Well you always were a bit screwy,” he teased her with a wink as he placed his hand on top of
hers, which was resting on the table.

She turned her hand under his so that she could intertwine her fingers with his. “It comes from
spending so much time in the library all those years. Any chance you'd like to be the one to
cure me of this bout of screwiness?” she asked him with a flirtatious grin.

--

“Wow,” he said.

She nodded slightly, a confused look on her face as she stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

“Well…”

“Yes, `*well*'.”

“That was… unexpected?”

She nodded, again. “My sentiments exactly.”

“You know… when I said I wanted to shag you I didn't necessarily mean on the first official
date, right?”

“So you didn't want to shag me?” she asked him, turning on her side so she was facing him as
she raised an interrogative eyebrow at him.

“No, trust me; I have no qualms about that. Just saying that you're different from the rest,
I didn't expect this or plan on it—I was perfectly content waiting however long you'd have
like.”

“Well then I guess you got lucky,” she told him with a wink.

He chuckled. “You did take note of the double entendre there, right?”

She grinned. “Why do you think I said it? You know, I have to ask, was this your way of getting
rid of my screwiness?”

He let out a deep laugh. “No, I gave up on that cause long ago, finally realized that it was
hopeless somewhere around fifth year.”

She swatted his arm. “You're such an arse sometimes. Now go get that baklava and musaka that
I never got to start at the restaurant. I suddenly find myself famished.”

“Well with someone as good as I am it's hard not to be exerted from such activities,” he
told her, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

She laughed. “Go get me my food and then I'll decide whether my hunger is because of you or
the fact that I haven't eaten since eight, when we left that restaurant after our appetizers,
and it's midnight now.”

“As you wish,” he told her before getting out of the bed and going for the food, totally
starkers and very proud of the fact.

“And stop quoting `The Princess Bride', you're no Westley, he was far sexier if that
ugly naked arse of yours is anything to go by!” she yelled after him, smiling brightly as she heard
a loud groan come form the other room.

“Don't worry love, I'll soon prove you other wise—just you wait!”

--

**author's note****: this was a bit of a filler, and****, honestly,** **I
don't even know if I like this chap at all lol, but here it is.**

**Next chap, however, will answer a pretty important question****,** **one that's
been begging to be answered since very early on in the fic.** **(Actually, it'll be a pretty
big chap actually: a significant question answered, Ginny, and an ex-boyfriend all in one!)**

**Also, it** **will be** **bringing us** **one step closer to the long awaited wedding
(which should take place in 2-3 chapters… I'm really sad to see myself so close to completing
the fic now lol)**

-->



24. finding annoying habits
---------------------------



**Chapter XXIV: finding** **annoying habits**

--

*“I find that as I grow older that I love* *most those whom I loved first.”*

*-Thomas Jefferson*

--

“I think that we need rules,” she announced as the two sat in a bistro the following morning,
eating a quick brunch before they had to meet up with Luna and Ron at the church for the wedding
rehearsal.

He groaned. “Why?”

“Because I'm not the sort of slag to get into the sack with a bloke before getting to the
actual eating portion of the date…”

“Well I'd say we rather enjoyed our take on the `eating' portion of the date,” he told
her as he waggled his eyebrows at the innuendo.

She, however, didn't appear particularly amused by the comment. “Come on Harry… I just—I
want this to be *real*, you know? I'm not one to just jump into bed with a bloke like
that. I *like* to think things out—rationalize them, scrutinize every little detail as I
create a pro and con list in my head. Last night, I didn't do that, I let my emotions get the
best of me. I just really need this Harry, please…”

He let out a sigh as he put down his mug of coffee, focusing solely on her. “Okay then, what
does this whole `relationship rules' thing entail?”

She shrugged. “Well I don't really know… I've never done it before. I guess we could
just say some things that we thing we need to do to make this work.”

“How about routine shags to keep the spirit alive and all that?” he asked her with a wink, his
eyes dancing with mirth as he grinned at her.

“Harry now's really not the time to act like some randy, prepubescent teen.”

“What can I do if that's the effect you have on me, love?”

She guffawed at that response as she took out a piece of parchment and a pen from her bag.

“Bloody hell, you were planning this all along?”

“Actually no, I just always keep them on me in case I need to jot something down,” she admitted
with a slight blush. “Seems to have come in handy here though.”

He nodded suspiciously. “I'm sure that's just it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, if you're going to act like a petulant five year old I'll be
the first to go, you can't put me on a pedestal.”

His eyes furrowed in confusion as he gave her a quizzical look. “What are you talking
about?”

“If you want this—*us* to work then I need you to be able to tell me when I'm being an
annoying cow or if I'm wrong. I need you to be willing to tell me I'm a bitch because I
definitely won't be holding myself back Harry, and we don't stand a chance if it's one
sided-”

“Hermione Granger?” a deep voice suddenly interrupted her tirade.

Hermione quickly turned around to the source of the interruption, only to almost fall back in
the shock of the sight before her. “Bloody hell, Marko, Is that really you?”

“It's good to see you Hermione, how are you?” he asked her as he pulled her out of her seat
and into a tight embrace.

“I'm good, but what are you doing here? I heard you went to Chernobyl after you finished up
everything back in Russia.”

Harry interrupted the pair with a loud cough, a desperate attempt to regain the attention that
he had, selfishly enough, been reveling in.

“Oh how could I forget, I feel like such an idiot,” she exclaimed, as a slight blush took over
her face. “Harry this is Marko, we worked together in Africa for a while. And Marko, this is Harry,
my… my boyfriend,” she said the last part so quietly, so shyly that he almost had to strain himself
to hear her, but he did nonetheless.

The man beamed at him, an act that Harry despised him for, it'd have been so much easier to
hate him had he not done that. “You're one lucky man then, Harry, Hermione is definitely one of
a kind, take care of her, will you?”

“Um… *yeah*, of course,” he stumbled slightly, still a bit caught off guard by the odd
situation.

“Listen, I actually should go since I'm late for a meeting with some officials from the
Russian and English embassy over getting some governmental aid for this project of mine, but
I'll look you up since you promised me a fun dinner date whenever I'm in town,” he told her
with a wink before pecking her on the cheek and leaving the pair with a quick wave before rushing
out of the bistro.

“So that poofter's actually your ex?” Harry asked as he took a sip of his, now cold,
coffee.

Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect “o” as she stared at him in shock.
“Harry James Potter, how can you go around making heinous accusations like that?! He's not a
bloody poofter, you arse, I should know.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione, just trust me on this one, you'd really rather have me refer to him
as one,” came his exasperated response as he rolled her eyes. Sometimes the girl was just too
emotional.

“And why is that?” she sputtered in disbelief.

“Oh come on, how else am I supposed to let you talk to other blokes without thinking about the
fact that they're staring down your shirt when you wear those sexy little v-neck tops of
yours.—Oi, seriously, don't laugh at me, they really do look far too good on that sexy
humanitarian body of yours, you bloody minx,” he rambled.

“You're an idiot.”

“It's called a defense mechanism love.”

“You're an idiot,” she repeated, giggling slightly, despite herself.

“And yet you love me for it.”

“Please, don't remind me of that fact right now; I'm trying to forget it for the sake of
whatever little sanity I have left.”

--

“Why does *she* have to be here?” Hermione groaned as she paused at the entrance of the
church where the rehearsal was taking place.

Harry grinned. “Are you by any chance *jealous*?”

“God no, it's more along the lines of the fact that she called me a slag and I tend to be a
bit spiteful towards anyone who makes any derogatory towards me. *Ugh*, I just want to hex
her!”

“Given that she's Ron's sister I really wouldn't advise you to do that,” he told
her, lightly squeezing the petite hand that was in his. “Besides, you already won without doing her
any bodily harm.”

“Oh, really, and how'd I manage that victory?” she asked him doubtfully.

“Why you have me, of course,” he winked at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Please, your ego's large enough as it is from everyone worshipping you
for being the bloody *Boy-Who-Lived*, I'm not about to coddle you any *more* by
saying you're a prize.”

He just chuckled in response before tugging at her hand and pulling her further into the
church.

“Oh Harry, I'm so glad to see that you were able to come!” a voice suddenly exclaimed in an
unnaturally squeaky and pathetic show of excitement at his arrival—or at least that's how
Hermione later described it to him as.

“Hey Ginny, how are you?” he asked her with a forced smile as he tried to hold back a grimace
from the pain he felt when Hermione dragged her nails into his hand, apparently using it as her
personal stress relief toy. He was quickly beginning to find just how preposterous the whole “you
make sacrifices for those you love” philosophy actually was.

“Hello Ginny,” Hermione's voice interrupted with a distinct undertone of distaste to it.

“Oh… Hermione, I'm surprised to see you here.”

“I'm in the wedding,” came Hermione's deadpanned reply.

“Oh, right, of course. You know, that was just so kind of Luna to try to make you a member of
the wedding party so you'd feel more comfortable after being away for so long, without any
communication no less.”

“Which is why she made me the bloody maid of honor and not just a bride's maid,” he heard
Hermione mutter, barely suppressing an almost guttural growl as she glared at the redhead.

Ginny, however, continued to rattle on despite Hermione's obvious annoyance. “And then
there's Harry who was sweet enough to help you come here when you forgot how to get around
England after *all* this time. You really are just too kind love,” she squealed as she
seductively ran a hand down his arm.

At that point Harry could have sworn he was bleeding from how deeply Hermione was digging her
nails into his hand, he was just thankful that she hadn't throttled Ginny yet, last thing Ron
and Luna needed was a cat fight.

“Actually, Hermione here was the one that showed me the way—seems as if I've taken one too
many blows to the head and had far too many concussions to even remember something so simple as the
address of a bloody church,” came his smooth response as he prayed that it'd at least somewhat
sate Hermione's temper as he really didn't want to have to visit her at Azkaban after she
murdered the girl.

“Oh, well-”

He interrupted her. “Listen Ginny, we should really get going as your brother and that lovely
fiancée of his are waiting for us so we can start the rehearsal. In fact, aren't you supposed
to be with them as well?”

“Well, actually, I was put in charge of the book the guests have to sign.”

At that response Harry heard Hermione snort lightly in an incredibly unfeminine and slightly
degrading manner. He could practically see the small victory party going on in her head as she
internally mocked Ginny with various and, surely, large and sophisticated words that few could ever
comprehend when combined in the manner she could.

She was surely a crazy and spiteful bitch—some things just never changed. That temper of hers
was still as violent as it was the day he had first met her.

“Right, well we'll just get going then,” he said as he pulled Hermione towards the stairs
that led to the bride's quarters. As soon as they climbed the stairs he immediately pulled her
into a small alcove, ignoring all the confused protests on her part.

“Do me a favor, and just try to get though this, play nice. Hell, if you can do that much
I'll even read *Hogwarts: a History*,” he begged her.

Her eyes widened in a delighted surprise. “Really?”

He sighed. “Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. But seriously, Hermione, you
shouldn't waste your energy on her, she's really not worth it.”

Hermione stared up at him in a state of utter bafflement. “How can you just say that when you
were with her for so long?”

“Because—because she was the girl that I needed back then, that escape from all the shit that
was going on around us, but that's all she ever was. That's really that there is to her, a
bubbly girl without much below the surface. She's sweet at times, she really can be, but
you—you're so much more than her,” he told her with a small, pained, smile as he lightly
touched a hand to her cheek.

“Worst you'll ever get from her are a few petty and rather unimaginative insults—well
actually it'll probably be far more than a few when she finally learns about us, but that's
really besides the point. Plus, it's kind of better for me if it didn't bother you as much
as my hand kind of likes getting circulation to it when you're not holding it in that bloody
vice grip,” he teased her with a playful wink.

She laughed. “And here I thought you liked holding hands with me and doing all those cliché
couple-y things.”

“Why do you think I let you do it despite the pain?” he retorted before giving her a chaste kiss
and pulling her towards the bride's room.

“Oh my, Harry, I just realized… I've cursed dozens of times—we're in a church! I'm
going to go to hell!” she suddenly moaned as he led her to the room.

The only response she ever received form Harry on that note was a loud chuckle.

--


*Protect whatever manhood you have left by calling Hermione on her shit
(**Hermione**, I even* *put* *it in laymen's terms for you
Harry**!**)*


*Don't question Harry's manhood (**Harry**)*


*Don't ridicule Harry (Harry, you broke this rule with that first comment of yours by the
way)*


*Daily shags—preferably more than once a day (Harry)*


*Always greet one another with a* *nice “welcoming snog” (Harry)*


*Don't make a mockery of Hermione's ideas (**Hermione**)*


*Don't look for an apartment—stay with Harry (**Harry**)*


*Harry then has to promise to treat Hermione to one of his amazing dinners once a week
(**Hermione**)*


*Hermione must then promise to a nice little “thank you” after wards
(**Harry**)*


*Dea**l (**Hermione**)*


*No more talking to ex's (**Harry**)*


*No more stupid requests (**Hermione**, you've reached your quota for them
love.)*


*Hermione has to be less controlling with these bloody lists of hers
(**Harry**)*


*Harry has to learn the difference between what is and what is* **not** *possible
(**Hermione**)*


*No mocking of the pro and con lists (**Hermione**, I kind of intend on using them a
lot so you better get used to them unless you want to spend the night in the guest room
love.)*


*He never would have dreamed of mocking it (**Harry**)*


*No sucking up (**Hermione**)*


*Hermione has to stop being so bitchy (**Harry**)*


She turned to him, eyes wide as a small smile tugged at her lips. “You—you're actually
listening to what I said?”

Harry shrugged. “Figure this list must mean a lot to you, even if I do plan on mocking it
profusely,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “Besides, it's not exactly the hardest rule to
follow.”

“Thank you.”

“Like I said, love, there's really nothing to be thankful for, otherwise I would have called
upon that favor you owe me in my own way.”

She let out a laugh as she playfully slapped his arm. “*Still*, it means a lot to me.”

“Well then go on, be as over emotional as you'd like. I'll just be at the pub, girls on
the verge of tears, happy or not, have always slightly scared me.”

She chuckled, latching on to his arm as he teased her by pretending to leave the library. She
turned him to face her and pulled him towards her, quickly bringing his face to hers-

“Wait.”

“What?” she asked, giving him a quizzical look as she tried to comprehend why the hell a randy
twenty something year old would turn down a chance for a snog session—and, admittedly, possibly
more.

“There's just one thing that I have to do,” he told her as he grabbed the list off of the
table and quickly scrawled something onto it.

She laughed as she read his chicken scratch over the shoulder, watching as he crossed out the
entire list before simply writing “no list” just below it.

He turned to face her again, smiling at her a bit guiltily. “We don't really need it. Just
take a chance with me, let it go, and just stop over analyzing it all. I promise that I'll do
whatever I can do to make it worth it.”

She stood there staring at him with an expression that he couldn't quite place, and the fact
that he wasn't capable of doing that much while he was an Auror deeply unsettled him.
“Hermione?”

“I think you just did.”

“I just did what?”

“Made it worth it,” she admitted with a nervous smile.

-->



25. finding the meaning
-----------------------



**Chapter XXV****: finding the meaning**

**--**

*"You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly
lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love." -Henry
Drummond*

--

*You snooze, you lose
Well I have snost and lost
I'm pushing through
I'll disregard the cost
I hear the bells
So fascinating and
I'll slug it out
I'm sick of waiting*

*Mike Doughty,* ***“I Hear the Bells”*


--

*“I love this song,” she said, smiling softly as she closed her eyes, focusing solely on Mike
Doughty softly singing “I Hear the Bells” in the background of the pub.*

*Harry chuckled as he watched the recent Hogwarts graduate act like a simple, normal
teenager—it was then that he realized just how much he had missed seeing her like that. “It's
okay.”*

*She shook her head slowly. “No—no, it's not just `okay'. It's so much more than
that Harry.”*

*“It's about some bloody bells that, apparently, are ringing,” he said in disbelief,
chuckling slightly at the absurdity of it all.*

*She let out a small breath of a laugh as she slowly opened her eyes. “It's so much more
than that Harry.”*

*He slightly cocked his head to the side as his expression quickly changed from one of
amusement to one of bafflement. “I don't see it,” he admitted.*

*She smiled at him sympathetically. “You will—one day you'll get it. One day you'll
think about this conversation, this song, and you'll understand what I mean… you'll finally
know why I adore it so much,” she promised him.*

*“And what do I do until then?” he asked her, a bit bothered by the fact that she wasn't
going to explain why the bloody song meant so much to her.*

*“Until then it'll just be a few words about some bells to you, and I'll be a total
mystery,” she told him, nudging his shoulder with her own playfully before closing her eyes once
again to immerse herself in the sweet lyrics.*

*He just stared at her in disbelief, letting her have her moment of silence to enjoy the song
as he tried to comprehend what that underlying connotation in it was. He wanted to know what was so
special about the song that it made her look so—so free.*

--

He watched he as the priest spoke, instructing Ron and Luna in their vows. It all just seemed so
surreal, so bloody out of nowhere. He had wondered for so long if it would ever be possible, and
then if she was even real. But *there* she was, in all her glory, flesh and blood, and he
couldn't help but be utterly enamored by the image. He could tell that she felt his gaze on her
when she turned to look at him, sending him that small crooked smile that he had come to adore for
its simplicity.

While he couldn't name the exact shade of blue that her dress was, or the cut, or even her
hair style—he honestly didn't care. He knew that later in life all that he'd remember,
*all* that would matter to him, was the fact that that stunning, slightly insecure,
*crazy* woman was his.

He had wanted her for so long, screwed up so many times, dealt with the pain of her leaving as
she did, for the great length of time that she did, but it was finally over. The pain was done with
and all that was left was a mended man who had become an extremely sentimental and sappy bloke—a
very unmanly trait that he would certainly never attest to out loud.

In reality though, nothing else mattered now that he had her.

--

He was wrong, some things did still matter.

“Chin up,” he heard a light and playful voice order him as she took a seat by his side.

He raised his chin.

“Funny,” she commented with a genuine laugh. “But honestly Harry, you can't be so sensitive,
it's really not *that* big of a deal.”

“I'm not bloody sensitive,” came his grumbled response, accompanied by a low growl.
“Sensitive is unmanly as and the bloody `boy-who-triumphed' I'm the epitome of
manliness.”

“Sure you are love,” she assured him, patting him atop his head in a highly condescending
manner. *Damn* *chit*.

He glared at her.

“Oh come on Harry, so you didn't catch the garter after I got the bouquet, as if that's
really that big of a deal.”

“He got to put his hand up your dress,” he muttered as he chugged what was left of his fire
whiskey.

“Well if it's any consolation you're the only man whose hands I *want* up it.”

He didn't respond; he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had sort of
sated him with that last remark. He was brooding and was dead set on getting the due respect for
that.

“Seriously Harry, if you think about it, in the whole cosmic balance sense of things the fact
that you're the best man to my maid of honor offsets that other superstition,” she
reasoned.

He didn't say anything, as immature as it may have been he liked where she was taking the
whole thing and was hoping to be further reassured of the fact.

“*But*, then again, if that superstition is actually stronger than the whole maid of
honor-best man, true love thing, it could also mean that Jason and I will end up getting eloped or
something,” he could practically hear the smirk on her voice as she made that comment.

That was the point at which he decided to screw the whole silence thing—she was just far too
talented at goading him. “Shut up.”

She chuckled. “You know, you're kind of sexy when you're all demanding and controlling
like that.”

He grunted.

“Oh, so we're back to that again? Well then how about, now that the wedding's over, we
go back to our place and I can show you just how much I'd prefer your hands on me?” she asked
him in a low, seductive tone that quickly worked wonders on him.

His eyes widened as he turned to her with a small, suggestive leer. “Really?”

“Why don't you find out yourself because, personally, I think tat words are mush too
overrated,” she told him as she playfully wiggled her eyebrows, effectively breaking whatever
barriers he had built against her manipulation.

He groaned. “Hermione, you can play me far too well, you know that?”

“Well I should hope so, I'd hate to see that you're the only one with that power in this
relationship, it wouldn't be very fair.”

“Really?” he asked her in surprise.

She just smiled at him as she touched a hand to his cheek in a soft caress, nodding slowly
before surprising him by suddenly disapparating.

“Bloody hell,” he laughed before quickly following her lead.

**Fin**.

--

**author's** **note****: and I'm afraid that that's all she wrote
lol.**

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26. thanks
----------



*Now that this fic is over I just wanted to take the time to thank all of those lovely
reviewers for their kind words of encouragement throughout the fic!*

All the anonymous reviewers! (in reality there are so many of you that you deserve more than one
mention, but that's the best I can do lol) ears91 miss_understood jessicag9438 awaltzforanight gphoenix51 RavenclawGenius MyUsedRomance Harmony_4ever88 Fia nothing_is_normal Harry85 fenriswolf tard_288 kimmypotter Marie_Granger Hana-xoxo dragonsandbookworms izzieq Tank03 Particle_Accelerator memoryspell48 marsram floomehere! KillerQueen lucky shoegal ILessThenThreeHP MissLexi Luv4dirish mi.nathy MiajanE happy_daze Pyro15 gak TheDivineMsD selaromer teganii Joana SummrMagic CathyD Konflickted katediggory

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